


Acceptable Terms- High Stakes

by pl2363



Series: Acceptable Terms- Pleasure Mechs at work [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Abandonment, Age Difference, Class Differences, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub, Dominance, Gambling, Gangbang, Group Sex, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Painplay, Recovery, Restraints, Rough Oral Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Submission, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: Smokescreen lives on the edge, and his risky behaviour lands him in trouble a lot. His cousin, Prowl, is there to help him out, but also worry and lecture him. Taking risks sometimes leads to rewards, though, as Smokescreen soon discovers.
Relationships: Ironhide/Smokescreen, Jazz/Prowl, Smokescreen/Aerialbots, Smokescreen/Bumblebee, Smokescreen/Kup, Smokescreen/Soundwave (Transformers), Smokescreen/Springer, Smokescreen/Thundercracker
Series: Acceptable Terms- Pleasure Mechs at work [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034820
Comments: 45
Kudos: 49





	1. Gamble and Loss

**Author's Note:**

> This is another series for the Acceptable Terms fic, centering on the life of a mech who sells their skills in the berth. This is positive view on enjoying kinks, while also exploring the growth of the main character as he works to figure out who he is. This does call back to events in the first Acceptable Terms fic, but you don't need to read it to understand what is happening. Comments and Kudos always very much appreciated! Thanks for reading.

The smell of high grade and oil hung thick in the air. The table was lit by a spotlight. Smokescreen checked his tiles, and lowered his doorwings slightly. He asked for one new tile, tossing in his bet. Others at the table smirked, giving away everything. The dealer called at the end of the third round of betting and tile trading. Everyone revealed their tiles. Smokescreen had three fourteens and two tens. He beat every other mech at the table. 

“What the frag?”

“You sneaky little piece of scrap—“

Smokescreen grinned as the dealer pushed the chips for his winnings over. He scooped them up and got to his feet. “See you later, mechs!”

He cashed out and walked up the stairs onto the street into the cooler air of the dark cycle. Playing Countdown was among one of his favorite things to do. Smokescreen liked to use his doorwings to trick the others at the tables. But he enjoyed pretty much any game of chance. His cousin said he was reckless, but he didn’t feel alive unless he was taking a chance. That applied to every aspect of his life. 

He’d won big, but not big enough. As a risk taker, he’d taken a bet at a local place and lost big on a racing tournament.

Entering a store front in a less savory part of Iacon, he approached the counter. 

“Smokescreen, you better have your payment in full.” Blackjack smirked and leaned back in his seat. 

“Not the whole payment, but a good chunk,” Smokescreen replied. He deposited the winnings on the counter. 

Blackjack sat forward and quickly counted. “This is twenty-seven percent of what you owe.” He scowled at Smokescreen. “You better have the other seventy-three to me by the end of the week, or else I’m sending Detour to take to the Pits in Kaon to work it off.  _ Are we clear? _ ”

Smokescreen nodded. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll get you the rest.”

“You better,” Blackjack replied. 

Leaving the storefront, Smokescreen got out his communicator. He heavily sighed as he typed a message. No matter how much he played the tables, coming up with the rest would be tough. He would have to resort to a backup plan.

…

“Hey, cousin!” Smokescreen smiled as he stepped into Prowl’s apartment and pulled Prowl into a hug. 

“Hello, Smokescreen,” Prowl replied, lifting one arm to partly hug back.

Smokescreen let go and sauntered into the apartment. “How’ve you been?”

Prowl followed him inside. “Well. And yourself?”

“You know, doing my thing,” Smokescreen replied, smiling. He plopped on the sofa and sighed. “That cute musician move in yet?”

His cousin went to the energon dispenser in the kitchenette, and poured two cubes. He then joined Smokescreen on the sofa, offering him one. “Not yet, but he stays here almost every evening.”

Smokescreen took the cube. “Nice.” 

Prowl took a short sip, and then set his cube on the table. “So, how much do you need this time?”

Smokescreen feigned being shocked by the question. “Prowl! I can’t just come by to hang out?”

“Stop with the theatrics. Save it for the Countdown tables. How much?” Prowl replied.

Doorwings lowering, Smokescreen frowned. “Two-thousand should cover it.” He sheepishly frowned. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

Prowl leaned across the table in front of the sofa, and opened a container. He pulled out four cards with a thousand credits each, then handed them to Smokescreen. 

Smokescreen frowned. “This is too much.” He tried to hand two back, but Prowl refused. 

“You need to also pay rent and fuel. Take it,” Prowl replied. 

“I  _ promise _ to pay you back,” Smokescreen replied.

Prowl gazed at Smokescreen, concern coloring his normally neutral expression. “Don’t worry about paying me back. What I would like, though, is for you to find a steady source of income.”

“Prowl, I can’t do the regular job thing. I need more freedom than going into the same place every day and doing the same thing over and over. I tried. I was on that police tactical unit… I wanted to  _ die _ ,” Smokescreen replied.

“Work should not be a thrill-seeking activity,” Prowl replied with a frown.

The door to the apartment opened, and Smokescreen quickly stuffed the credits in his subspace. Jazz wandered in with his instrument in a bag on his back. 

“Heeey Smokes! Been a while, what’s goin’ on?” Jazz asked, smiling brightly. 

“Just stopped by for a visit.” Smokescreen replied with a smile. He knew how they’d met, which he found pretty interesting. He thought Jazz was perfect for his cousin, though. Any mech that actually got Prowl to relax and have fun had high marks in his opinion. “How’s being a famous musician treating you?”

“Very well, actually.” Jazz set his instrument on a stand in the corner of the living area, then walked over to kiss Prowl sweetly before he flopped on the large chair beside the sofa. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m okay, you know how it is,” Smokescreen replied. “Prowl was just scolding me about not having a job to go to everyday.”

“You need to create some stability in your life, Smokescreen,” Prowl replied.

“Not my style,” Smokescreen replied. He finished his cube, and before he could set it down, Prowl took the empty glass and went to the kitchenette to clean it.

Jazz suddenly sat up properly in the chair, and reached into his subspace. He threw a card at Smokescreen. 

Smokescreen almost didn’t catch it, fumbling with it for a moment. “I can’t take credits,” he whispered.

“Look at it,” Jazz replied. 

Smokescreen quickly read the lettering: Zetca’s Mechs.

“Would you like a glass of energon, Jazz?” Prowl asked from the kitchenette.

“That would be amazing, yeah,” Jazz replied. 

Looking at Jazz, Smokescreen lifted his doorwings questioningly. 

“For a job your speed,” Jazz whispered.

Smokescreen suddenly had a million questions. Jazz had left the agency because he hated it, right? That’s what Prowl had told him, anyway. Why would he recommend it to  Smokescreen? But he couldn’t ask in front of Prowl. He put it in his subspace, and smiled at Jazz. “Thanks.”

…

_ Hey Jazz, Just wanted to message you about that card you gave me. Prowl made it sound like you hated working as a pleasure mech? -Smokes _

_ Heya Smokes, Nah. I left because I got hurt by a client. Messed me up for a while. If my music career hadn’t taken off, I’d probably go back. Zetca has new rules to protect his agents. He’s tried getting me to come back a few times now. Knowing you’re a lot like me, I think you’d be cool with a job like that. And if you like interfacing like me, you’ll really enjoy it, too. -Jazz _

Smokescreen stared at Jazz’s message for a long moment then he looked at the card, fingering it. He didn’t know Jazz super well, but Prowl had talked about him enough that he knew Jazz wouldn’t lie.

Interfacing for a living? It certainly was one way to go. He not only loved gambling, but often enjoyed getting drunk and berthing mechs he’d meet in bars. Getting paid to get off? It was certainly tempting.

…

“Stand up and turn around for me slowly,” Zetca said, leaning back in his plush chair. 

Smokescreen smiled, then got up and turned around. He’d been asked to come into Zetca’s office after name-dropping Jazz in a message to him. 

“I need to see everything. Please open your array,” Zetca directed. 

That wasn’t too surprising a request, but it did feel weird just exposing himself as he let his array cover open. Zetca frowned a little. 

“You can close up. And have a seat,” Zetca said, gesturing to the other plush chair. 

Smokescreen was worried he’d not passed inspection. He knew he wasn’t the most beautiful mech, but he was cute enough to berth pretty much whoever he wanted. 

Zetca picked up a datapad and typed into it. “How often do you interface?”

“Two-three times a week,” Smokescreen replied. 

“Same mech?” Zetca asked. 

“Nah. Different mechs,” Smokescreen replied. 

“Do you have a body type you prefer?”

Smokescreen shrugged his doorwings. “Not really. I’ve been with all types.”

“Triple changers?”

“Yup.”

“Smaller mechs than yourself?”

“Yup.”

Smokescreen watched Zetca make notes. He wondered if Jazz had been asked similar things when he first came in here. 

“Alright.” Zetca set the datapad down and faced Smokescreen. “I’ve never had a Praxian want to work for me. I’ve had them as clients, but never agents. Your doorwings and looks make you a unique offering. Part of why I’m so successful is that I offer my clients variety to choose from. That said, Jazz came to me much the same way you have and that means I will require an assessment.”

“An assessment? What’s that?” Smokescreen asked, doorwings lifting slightly with his curiosity. 

Zetca smiled. “I’ll pay you for your time, but I will require you to do a session with one of my oldest clients.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’m up for that,” Smokescreen replied with a smile.

“Excellent.” Zetca picked up a communicator from the table. “Are you available tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yeah,” Smokescreen replied. 

Zetca typed into the communicator. “All set. You’ll go to the Omni hotel tomorrow at 1500.” He set the communicator down and picked up a mini datapad. “Here is your client’s profile information as well as the rules of engagement. I expect you to recite these rules to him before your session starts.”

Smokescreen read through the rules. “Rule one: no physical harm can be done to me. Rule two: no kissing on the mouth. Rule three: if either client or agent are uncomfortable the session will be terminated immediately.” He looked up at Zetca. “Sounds good.”

“Read through the profile, too,” Zetca replied. 

Smokescreen opened the client file and skimmed it. The image wasn’t too clear, but the mech did appear older. His listed preferences were domination and younger mechs. “So with rule one, how does it work for a preference like dominating?”

Zetca smiled. “As long as he doesn’t leave a mark on you, or torture you in anyway, it’s acceptable. That said, rule three can be invoked if you do feel uncomfortable. Tell me, are you able to be submissive?”

Smokescreen nodded and flashed a big grin. “Definitely.” This was going to be pretty interesting...


	2. Kup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assessment time with the oldest mech Smokescreen has ever interfaced with.

Using some of the extra credits from Prowl, Smokescreen had his plating waxed. He wanted to look nice for his assessment. It was the middle of the day, the light cycle had just passed it’s peak when he walked into the Omni hotel. 

He approached the front desk, asking for a key to his assessor’s room. He was handed a swipe key and then he took the lift up. Stepping off, he sauntered down the corridor, feeling a little nervous and excited all at once. 

The door opened and Smokescreen entered a large, nice-looking room. The ceilings were high, a large berth sat perched on a raised platform with a headboard. To the right was a seating area with two sofas and a low table. 

The mech he was here to meet sat on one of the sofas, chewing what looked like a spark plug, and reading a datapad. He wasn’t just older, he was  _ old _ . Smokescreen was surprised. Could mechs this old still interface? 

“Hey, kid.” The mech lowered his datapad. “Have a seat.”

Smokescreen smiled and sat on the other sofa. “I’m Smoke—“

“Smokescreen. Yeah, I got a file on you from Zetca.” He set the datapad aside and sat forward, scrutinizing him. “A young Praxian interested in bein’ a pleasure mech. One of the weirder ones he’s sent me.”

Smokescreen let his doorwings lift as he looked at the mech, confused by his comment. “It’s Kup, right?”

“It is,” Kup replied, chewing the spark plug as his optics wandered Smokescreen’s frame slowly. 

“We'll, let's get the first things out of the way, then you can explain why you think it’s weird I’m here. You okay with that?” Smokescreen asked, trying to sound more in charge of the situation than he felt.

Kup smiled, lips curling at the edges. “Rules. Go ahead. Let’s hear ‘em.”

Smokescreen held his gaze. “First rule, no harming me.”

“Gonna push your limits but I won’t hurt ya,” Kup replied. 

“Good. The second rule, no kissing on the mouth.”

“Got it.”

“Third rule, if either of us are uncomfortable, we end the session,” Smokescreen finished. 

“Absolutely,” Kup replied. 

“So, why am I so weird?” Smokescreen asked.

Kup chuckled. “I’ve been assessing Zetca’s walk-ins for years. Most of ‘em are mechs that grew up on the streets. Had no real family to speak of. You, on the other hand—“ Kup picked up the datapad he’d been reading. “You’re from a wealthy family in Praxis. Your creators are out of the picture it seems, but your uncles raised you as their own with a cousin who also now lives here in Iacon. I mean, why would you leave such a cushy place in life to come here and become a pleasure mech?”

Smokescreen leaned back against the sofa. “Are you an enforcer?”

Kup stilled, and smiled. “Close. I’m a retired member of of the Prime guard. How could you tell?”

“All those details you just read are part of a missing mech report my Uncle filed,” Smokescreen replied. “Want to know the truth?”

Kup set the datapad aside. “Sure do, kid.”

This was clearly part of the assessment: a background check. “How much do you know about Praxian society?”

“Not much,” Kup admitted. 

“They still arrange bondings. First my cousin was going to bonded to a mech he barely knew, so he left to come here, and when it was my turn to bonded to a mech I never even met, he offered to help me escape. As for why I’m at this assessment with you to become a pleasure mech, I love interfacing and don’t see why I shouldn’t get paid for something I’m gonna do a lot of anyway,” Smokescreen explained.

“You got a rebellious streak in you, hm?” Kup asked. 

“I do. Much to my cousin’s disapproval. But I enjoy feeling free here. After growing up the way I did, I want to  _ live _ life, not let it pass me by,” Smokescreen replied. 

Kup grinned and stood up. “Let’s get to it, then.”

Smokescreen also stood, and followed Kup to the open area next to the sofas. 

“Stand here, let me get a look at you.” Kup chewed his spark plug and looked Smokescreen over from the front for a long moment. “Headlights sensitive?”

“Yeah,” Smokescreen replied. 

Kup walked around behind Smokescreen and tweaked one of his doorwings. “These are sensitive, too, right?”

“They are, yeah.” Smokescreen fluttered them a little. “You like them?”

Kup chuckled. “I’ll be honest, I never fragged a Praxian before. I’m kinda looking forward to this.” 

A hand ran over the backside of his doorwing, and Smokescreen hummed softly in response.

“These are lovely but also a liability,” Kup said. His hand wandered down Smokescreen’s back and then down between his legs. He rubbed the closed cover and moved in closer. 

Smokescreen felt his array onlining already. He was very curious what interfacing with a mech this old was going to be like. 

Kup wrapped one arm around a doorwing, the bottom edge against the crook of his elbow. Then he squeezed it hard for a moment. Pain registered over Smokescreen’s sensory net and he winced.

“That hurt?”

“Yeah.” Smokescreen knew domination was Kup's preference so he calmed his EM field and waited. 

“Your array is warm,” Kup commented. He tapped the closed cover. “Open.” 

Smokescreen obeyed, and Kup sank his fingers into his valve. He pumped them in and out, and used his thumb to rub the sensitive platelets at the rim of his valve. Smokescreen softly moaned, his valve instantly slicking. This old mech was an expert with his fingers. 

After a moment, Kup squeezed his doorwing still trapped in his arm. This time pain registered but it quickly melded with the pleasure from his array and Smokescreen groaned in response. He’d always been like this, pain turned to pleasure if they were mixed. 

“Was curious if you were wired this way. Been with fliers, they’re the same. Pain feels good when you’re already turned on, right?” Kup asked.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen replied, voice thin and airy sounding. 

The sound of Kup’s array cover opening echoed in the room. He felt an unusual shaped spike head rubbing the rim of his valve. It felt really round. “Ready?”

“Frag, yeah,” Smokescreen replied. 

The bulbous head pushed into Smokescreen’s valve, followed by thick ridges that Kup pushed in one ridge at a time. It felt incredible and unlike any spike he’d ever experienced. He really wondered what it looked like. Kup pushed to the hilt, and Smokescreen’s valve throbbed around it. 

Kup pulled partway out slowly, those ridges hitting nodes he didn’t even know he had in his valve. Smokescreen moaned wantonly, doorwings quivering. 

“Here we go for real. I’m gonna push your limits, you say ‘stop’ if it’s too much,” Kup explained. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Smokescreen reached up to finger one of his own headlights. 

Kup hummed approvingly then started to thrust. He started at an even pace then began to pick it up. Smokescreen moaned as those ridges quickly built up an incredible charge in his array. 

Suddenly the arm wrapped around his doorwing squeezed and Smokescreen cried out, pleasure and pain intensifying the experience. Kup thrust hard and deep, squeezing the wing now and again. Smokescreen started to pant in order to combat the spike of his core temperature. 

“I want to feel you overload with me buried inside you,” Kup crooned into Smokescreen’s audio. “You close?”

Smokescreen couldn't form a verbal reply, he was too busy moaning, so he nodded. 

Kup was relentless, thrusting deep with his amazing spike and squeezing the doorwing at his mercy until Smokescreen was finally pushed over the edge. He shuddered against Kup at his back, his own fingers digging into his headlights as he overloaded hard. It lasted a long, lovely moment. Pleasure careening through his array and across his sensory net.

Once the overload began to ebb, Smokescreen relaxed against Kup, barely able to keep himself upright. Kup released the doorwing and slid his arm around Smokescreen’s middle to better support his weight. 

After a few moments, he felt more steady on his feet. Smokescreen tightened his valve around the still hard spike buried inside him. “What next?”

Kup chuckled and then he shifted, pulling his spike free. “On your knees. I wanna try out that mouth of yours.”

Turning around to face Kup, Smokescreen dropped to his knees. He gazed at the strange spike. It had a rounded head and those ridges were larger than he even imagined. He leaned forward to lick the head, but Kup grabbed him by the chevron and stopped him. 

“From here on out, you only do what I say. When I say lick my spike, you’ll lick it. You can only overload when I say you can. If you disobey, I’ll punish you with pain. Clear on the ground rules?” Kup asked.

Smokescreen nodded. “May I suck your spike?”

Kup pet his chevron, chewing his spark plug and grinning. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

Licking the head, Smokescreen could taste himself mixed with Kup. He swirled his glossa around it slowly then opened his mouth and swallowed the spike in a smooth motion. The bulbous end almost made him gag as it filled his intake but he managed to tamp down the urge. He pulled off partway then swallowed again. Kup groaned. Encouraged, Smokescreen bobbed his head over the spike, glossa snaking around it as he did. 

“I’m impressed. Most mechs gag on my spike,” Kup said, grinning with that spark plug clenched between his teeth. 

Smokescreen didn’t pause or slow, deepthroating his unusual spike. 

Kup grabbed his chevron, keeping him from pulling off. Smokescreen looked up at him with that spike filling his mouth and part way down his intake. “You’re pretty with a spike down your throat. You like sucking spikes? Nod for yes, shake for no.”

Smokescreen nodded. 

“You’re not at all what I was expecting. A lot of pleasure mechs don’t like this. But they do it anyway. You were eager.  _ Very _ interesting,” Kup said. 

He let go, but Smokescreen didn’t move. 

“So obedient, too,” Kup crooned. “We’re done with this part. Get up on the berth on all fours for me.”

Smokescreen pulled off, licking the end playfully before he got up and went to the berth. He got on his hands and knees in the middle and waited. He noticed Kup hadn’t overloaded, but he wasn't going to point it out quite yet. 

Kup sat on the berth at his side. He reached under and wrapped a hand around Smokescreen’s spike. He palmed it, squeezing it until it grew firm. “Your spike is large for your body size. It’s not modded, is it?”

“Nope. Just how big it got for adult upgrades,” Smokescreen replied. “Wanna try it?” He asked with a grin.

“I don’t get spiked. I do the spiking. Most of your clients will, too. But good to see your natural equipment is more than adequate,” Kup replied, letting go. 

“Zetca made a disappointed face when I showed him,”  Smokescreen said, doorwings lowering a little. 

“I doubt it was a disappointment about your array.” Kup took his spark plug out of his mouth and put it in his subspace before getting up onto the berth behind Smokescreen. “He’s a shrewd business mech, and I’m sure he was more concerned about your motives for coming to him.”

“I need a job. One that I like doing. That’s it,” Smokescreen replied. 

Kup chuckled as he pet Smokescreen’s aft with both hands. “Well, so far so good. Let’s see if you can finish the assessment.”

Smokescreen felt that spike rub his valve before penetrating him slowly again, ridge by ridge. Once Kup was buried to the hilt, he ran his hands up Smokescreen’s spinal unit and then over his doorwings. Smokescreen’s valve throbbed around the spike as pleasure from the touches caused him to moan softly. 

Kup leaned forward and grasped the top edges of Smokescreen’s doorwings with each hand. “You can only overload when I say. Understood?”

“Yes. Can I ask if I’m close?” Smokescreen asked, squeezing his valve around the spike inside him. 

Kup groaned a little in response. “Yeah, you can beg me.” His hands tightened their grip on Smokescreen’s doorwings. “Here we go.”

Using Smokescreen’s doorwings for leverage, Kup pounded him deeply over and over. 

Smokescreen relaxed, letting him have his way. He tried not to get too revved up too fast so he would come on command when Kup was ready. It wasn’t easy, those ridges rubbed his valve lining in the most incredible way, teasing deep nodes that sent waves of pleasure through him. 

Time ticked by, Kup seemed in no hurry to overload, slowing his thrusts, but pressing as deeply as possible. Each time he did, he’d groan and squeeze Smokescreen’s doorwings hard. 

Smokescreen shivered, his valve hot and quivering. He wanted to overload so badly. “Can I overload?” He asked, voice taking on a slight whine.

“Not yet,” Kup replied. 

Grasping at the berth padding, Smokescreen knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. The deep thrusting felt so good. “Please… please may I?”

“Nope,” Kup replied. He then thrust faster, but just as deeply.

Smokescreen couldn’t stop it. He cried out, overloading hard. His whole frame shuddered. Before the pleasure even began to ebb, he felt a hard swat to aft.

“I  _ didn’t _ say you could overload,” Kup groused. He yanked Smokescreen up by his doorwings, then wrapped one arm around his middle, holding him flush to his body, while putting a doorwing in the crook of his other arm again and squeezing hard.

Smokescreen cried out, pain melding with pleasure, and prolonging his overload. His optics flickered off as Kup continued to squeeze his doorwing hard. The long overload finally ended, and his body went lax in Kup’s grasp.

The pressure on his doorwing released, though it was still cradled in Kup’s elbow, and they both stilled. 

“You didn’t obey,” Kup said into Smokescreen’s audio. 

“I’m sorry,” Smokescreen said, voice hoarse from crying out. He relit his optics “It felt so good.”

Kup fingered one of Smokescreen’s headlights. “How should I punish you, hm?” He mused aloud. 

“However you want,” Smokescreen replied. Two overloads in and he still wanted more. No one had made him overload this intensely before. 

“Alright, last chance. Don’t disobey this time.” Kup shifted, holding Smokescreen by both his doorwings, each cradled in the crook of an arm. “You tell me when you’re close, and I’ll help you obey, understood?”

Smokescreen nodded. 

That spike was still hard, and Kup began to thrust again. This time his hips moved in sharp, hard motions that jarred Smokescreen’s frame. His valve rippled around it, pleasurable charge building up yet again. 

In no time, Smokescreen was trembling. “I’m close,” he breathed. 

Kup stopped thrusting and squeezed both doorwings hard. Smokescreen whimpered, it hurt more this time, and didn’t change to pleasure. 

“You good?” Kup asked. 

Smokescreen nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Kup resumed. 

This went on for several minutes, bringing Smokescreen to the cusp, then replacing pleasure with pain. As long as Kup stilled when he squeezed his doorwings, it wouldn’t register as pleasure, instead hurting. Smokescreen was definitely at his limits; tired, overheated, panting, and valve hot and needing that sensation of release. He vaguely wondered if he might pass out.

That’s when he felt something change. Kup’s spike felt bigger? Thicker? Definitely like it was filling him more than before. 

Smokescreen groaned in response. “May I please?” 

Kup started to pant as he thrust deeply again. “May you please what?”

“May I overload? Please…?” Smokescreen begged. 

Kup let go of one doorwing, arm wrapping around Smokescreen and hugging him flush to Kup’s body as he pounded him hard and deep. “Not yet.”

Smokescreen whimpered. “ _ Please _ . I’m  _ close _ .”

“Okay, now you can,” Kup replied, his voice thinner and airy as he spoke right into Smokescreen’s audio. 

Being told he could finally overload, Smokescreen’s array felt like it was on fire as he finally let himself plunge into pleasure. His doorwing was squeezed, and it instantly added another layer of sensation intensifying the overload which caused his vision to white out for a moment. He’d had great overloads before, but they paled next to this. 

Coming down from his high, he felt Kup still thrusting, but his spike felt different now, huge and thick. Suddenly Kup hugged Smokescreen hard against his body and roared as he overloaded himself.

Fluid flooded Smokescreen’s valve, and the heat and electrical charge created another shallow overload. Smokescreen moaned and shivered. 

Kup sank back on his heels, pulling Smokescreen with him. It was then Smokescreen realized Kup’s spike had created a seal, and they were locked together. His optics brightened, and he stiffened, unsure what was happening.

“It’ll release soon,” Kup said, nuzzling the back of Smokescreen’s neck. “It’s how my spike works. Just relax.”

Smokescreen’s moment of panic passed and he let his body relax. He was exhausted, but at the same time completely sated after so many incredible overloads in a row. 

Kup pet Smokescreen’s body as they waited. He touched his doorwings in a soothing manner where he’d previously hurt them. Smokescreen’s optics dimmed at the intimate touches after such harsh treatment.

“I didn’t know spikes could make a seal. This is a first for me,” Smokescreen commented. 

Kup continued his affectionate touches, mouthing the back of Smokescreen’s neck. “Old mechs have old ways of interfacing.”

Smokescreen smiled a little. “I like how this feels. It’s…I dunno...”

“ _ Intimate _ ,” Kup replied. “Meant to be. I’ll be honest, you’re the first assessment mech to get me to overload in a while.”

“Really?” Smokescreen was surprised.

“Takes me a long time to get charged up enough to overload. You’re a trooper. You didn’t pass out on me,” Kup chuckled. 

“I came close,” Smokescreen admitted. “And I’m gonna need fuel as soon as we’re done.”

“I got a cube in subspace for you.” Kup pet Smokescreen’s abdomen, as he pulled out a cube, offering it to him. 

“Thanks.” Smokescreen happily took it and sipped the much needed fuel.

“Make sure you carry spares on you when you’re working,” Kup said, nuzzling his neck again. 

“So that means I passed the assessment?” Smokescreen asked, looking over his shoulder at Kup.

“You sure did, kid,” Kup replied.

The thickness began to shrink back and Smokescreen felt the seal break. Kup didn’t move, though, letting Smokescreen sit in his lap and finish his fuel. 

If this was any indication of what this job was going to like, Smokescreen was excited. He loved interfacing, and now he’d get paid well for it. He’d be able to pay back Prowl in no time, have credits to play the Countdown tables, and get to have processor-blowing overloads. This was a win-win-win.


	3. Springer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward and looking for pointers, Smokescreen is happy to help.

“Order whatever you want. I’m buying,” Smokescreen said to Prowl, grinning. 

Smokescreen had invited Prowl to meet him at an energon cafe. He’d been working for Zetca for a few weeks and he was doing really well. He hadn’t yet told Prowl about his job and wanted to share his news now that he was finally feeling more settled in things.

Prowl gave him that look; a mixture of disbelief and worry. “I appreciate your offer, but—“

“No buts. Pick something you want. I want these ones,” Smokescreen tapped the order screen on the table, picking out an order of sweet energon treats. “You like the sour ones, right? Let’s get those.” He tapped the screen again. 

“Smokescreen…” 

“ _ Prowl _ ,” Smokescreen said, speaking deeper to mimic his cousin. 

Prowl’s doorwings twitched. “Why are we here? Do you need more credits?”

“No, I don’t. In fact—“ Smokescreen reached into his subspace and took out two thousand credits in cards he’d earned in tips. He grabbed Prowl’s hand and placed them in his palm, then closed white fingers over them. “It’s only half of what I owe you. But I promise next time I’ll give you the rest.”

“Where did you get this? Are you gambling on more than the Countdown tables?” Prowl sounded almost alarmed. 

The waiter came over, setting the trays of treats down. 

“Thanks,” Smokescreen said to the waiter. He then looked at Prowl. “I know I’m a glitch, but I’d hope you have a little more faith in me.”

Prowl sighed softly. “You aren’t a glitch. I’m just concerned.”

“I know.” Smokescreen picked up a treat and popped it in his mouth. It tasted delightful. After swallowing, he looked Prowl in the optics. “I got a job.”

“You did?” Prowl looked pleased. “Where?”

Smokescreen paused for a moment, letting himself enjoy the fact he’d made Prowl proud before he let him down again. “Zetca’s mechs.”

Prowl instantly frowned. “You’re a pleasure mech?” He asked in a hushed voice. 

“Yeah. Pays well. Fits my personality. And turns out I’m good at it,” Smokescreen glanced down at the treats, unable to face Prowl’s disappointment. “I’m sorry. Never gonna live up to your expectations, am I?”

Prowl put the credits in his subspace, then reached across the table and placed a hand over Smokescreen’s and squeezed. “I have no right to judge. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Smokescreen looked at their hands. “I know it’s not the choice you wanted me to make but it’s my life, Prowl.”

“It is,” Prowl agreed. “And you know that’s how I met Jazz. But, he was very seriously hurt doing your job. That’s why he left. So I do worry.”

Meeting Prowl’s gaze, he half-smiled. “I know you love me in your own worrying way. I promise I’m safe. Zetca changed his screening process and rules because of Jazz.”

Prowl held Smokescreen’s gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “That’s all I want. For you to be safe.” Prowl squeezed his hand. “I’m proud of you. I mean it.”

Hearing that made Smokescreen smile. “Eat your treats and stop being so mushy.”

Prowl smiled and shook his head. He let go of Smokescreen’s hand to pick up a treat and pop it in his mouth. He chewed slowly then swallowed. “Very good. Thank you.”

“I owe you a lot more than credits. So thank  _ you _ . I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you,” Smokescreen replied. 

Prowl warmly smiled. “You really don’t owe me anything. But, I do want you to find happiness. That’s what matters most to me.”

Find happiness? Smokescreen felt content for once. Wasn’t that the same thing?

…

Smokescreen walked through the lobby of a pretty nice long term hotel toward the front desk. He saw through a bank of windows there were communal oil and heated water baths, which were very tempting. He wasn’t here for those, though. 

“Can I help you?” asked a receptionist.

“Yeah. I’m here to see Springer,” Smokescreen replied. 

The receptionist typed into her console. “Ah, yes. Your name?”

“Smokescreen.”

“You’re on his guest list for today. One moment.” After typing in something, a key card was generated. The receptionist handed it to Smokescreen. “This is only good for the next three cycles. The lifts are down the corridor to your left.”

“Thanks,” Smokescreen replied. He sauntered to the lifts and hopped on. Stepping off on the correct floor, he headed to the room on the key card. He waved it over the lock, and the door slid open. 

Entering the room, he quickly assessed the space. There was a small entryway, a nice sized living area, an adjoining berth room, and what he guessed was a wash rack. The door was closed, but he could hear water running. 

He wandered over to the semi-circle sofa and sat down to wait. He noticed a high grade bottle on the low table, and frowned. The whole no drinking part of this job kinda sucked slag, but he understood why. Better safe than sorry. 

The washrack door opened and a large triple changer in green and silver stepped out. 

“Oh, you’re here! I’m sorry. Were you waiting long?” Springer asked.

“Nope. Just got here.” Smokescreen stood back up to properly greet him. “You’re Springer?”

“Yeah. And, um—“ Springer looked Smokescreen up and down as he walked over. “You’re prettier in person. Smokescreen, right?”

“That’s me.” Smokescreen grinned. He loved being called pretty by his clients. “Let’s sit and get the business stuff out of the way. Sound good?”

Springer nodded and smiled. 

They sat down side by side on the sofa. Smokescreen could see how much bigger Springer was up close. “I have to tell you the rules so just say something after each one. That way I know you heard me. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Rule one: no harming me,” Smokescreen began.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Rule two: no kissing on the mouth.”

“Disappointing, but sure. No kissing.”

“You can kiss me anywhere else you want, if that helps,” Smokescreen clarified with an impish smile. 

Springer grinned. “Good to know.”

“And last rule: if either of us is uncomfortable, we end the session,” Smokescreen finished.

“Understood,” Springer replied. 

“Okay, now that the boring important stuff is outta the way, tell me what you’d like to do. I didn’t see any listed preferences in your profile.” Smokescreen turned partway to better face his larger client. 

“Yeah, well, to be honest, it’s kind of embarrassing.” Springer shyly smiled. “I like mechs your size. But…um...well, I never seem to, you know,  _ satisfy _ mechs I’ve been with…”

“Your partners don’t overload?” Smokescreen asked, wanting to be as clear as possible. 

“Yeah. To be honest, I’ve been told I’m bad at interfacing,” Springer replied, frowning.

Smokescreen offered a sympathetic smile. This was the second time so far Zetca gave him a mech who needed some guidance in the berth. He was pretty good at teaching mechs how to please him, even before he took this job. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. You’re a big mech, and that can be intimidating for someone my size.”

“Have you been with a triple changer before?” Springer asked.

“Lots of triple changers, actually.” Smokescreen held up his hand. “Place your hand flat against mine.”

Springer looked confused, but did as he was asked. 

“See how much bigger your fingers are than mine?”

“Yeah.”

“Same goes for your spike and most mech’s valves,” Smokescreen explained. “I don’t know you yet, but in my experience mechs your size don’t realize how uncomfortable it can be for mechs like me if things aren’t primed and ready.”

Springer nodded, looking pensive. 

Smokescreen lowered his hand. “Why do you like mechs smaller than you?”

“Oh, uh, I dunno. There’s something nice about holding them, I guess. I like feeling all of their body against me at once,” Springer replied.

So it wasn’t about the smaller valve. Interesting. Most triple changers like the tightness in Smokescreen’s experience. Springer was different, it seemed. “You like feeling the physical size difference, makes sense. How about you show me what you’d normally do, minus the making out part,” Smokescreen said. 

Springer suddenly looked nervous. He tentatively touched Smokescreen’s hip with one hand, while the other pet down his chest. His thumb swept over a headlight, and Smokescreen hummed his approval. Encouraged, he leaned in and mouthed along his shoulder. His touches weren’t harsh at all. Smokescreen reciprocated, his hands petting Springer’s frame, teasing transformation seams. 

Suddenly, Springer slid his whole arm around Smokescreen and pulled him sideways into his lap. He kissed and mouthed Smokescreen’s neck, while one large hand rubbed his aft and down his leg.

Smokescreen didn’t mind being man-handled, but he knew other mechs might find being moved like that alarming without being asked first. 

Springer pushed his legs apart and slid his fingers over Smokescreen’s array cover while hugging Smokescreen close. Smokescreen found he couldn’t really move, essentially now pinned against the larger mech. 

“Okay, let’s pause,” Smokescreen said as gently as he could. 

Springer loosened his grasp and looked at Smokescreen with bright optics. “I’m messing it up already, huh?”

Smokescreen scooted over a little in Springer’s lap, giving more space between them. “It’s not about ‘messing up’. From my point of view, I was just pulled over into your lap without warning, then squeezed so I couldn’t move. Some mechs like being dominated, but my guess is, you’re not into that.”

“No, not at all,” Springer replied.

“You’re affectionate, and eager. A smaller mech needs to have some control, though. You’re kinda just doing what you want. It’s a lot better when it’s give and take. Make sense?” Smokescreen tried to explain, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. I don’t mean to be selfish, though,” Springer replied, frowning.

“I know you don’t.  _ So _ , this time, I want you to say what you’d like to do before you do it,” Smokescreen directed. 

“Before I do it?” Springer asked.

“Yep.”

Springer lifted a hand. “I’d like to touch your headlights again.”

“Go ahead,” Smokescreen replied.

He rubbed his thumb over one of Smokescreen’s headlights, which did feel nice. Smokescreen softly moaned. 

“Next, I’d like to kiss your neck,” Springer said, leaning in. He mouthed and kissed Smokescreen’s neck, while still teasing his headlight. “May I also touch your array?” he asked, hand drifting down. 

“Yes,” Smokescreen replied. 

Springer slid his hand down and rubbed his fingers over the closed array, while resuming mouthing Smokescreen’s neck and shoulder. “Would you open for me?” he asked, his voice taking on a shy quality.

Smokescreen really wanted to, his array heated and ready to go, but he wanted to move into the berthroom. “No. Not yet.”

Springer lifted his head, looking a little confused. 

“Try asking me what I’d like to do,” Smokescreen said with a winked optic.

“Oh, I see.” Springer smiled. “What would you like to do?”

Springer had a charming smile. Smokescreen knew he’d do well if he just learned to be more patient. 

“I want to go into your berthroom,” Smokescreen replied. He leaned in and mouthed Springer’s jaw. “And I’d like if you carried me.”

“You sure?” Springer asked, his arms sliding around Smokescreen slowly. 

Smokescreen put both his arms around Springer’s neck. “Absolutely.”

Springer held Smokescreen close, and got to his feet. He carried him into the berthroom and gently set him down on the berth. 

He started to stand, but Smokescreen grabbed his hand. “Use this moment to let me be more in control. If you kneel in front of me, we’ll be optic level.”

Springer’s optics brightened with understanding. “That makes sense.” He knelt down. 

Smokescreen parted his legs, and pulled Springer closer by the hand. “If I was allowed to kiss, then we’d be making out right now.”

Springer grinned. “Good to know. Is it okay to kiss your frame?”

“Yes,  _ please _ ,” Smokescreen replied. 

He kissed down Smokescreen’s body and paused to lick a headlight. Smokescreen moaned in response, and pet his helm. Springer kissed over his abdomen and then paused at his array cover. 

“Go ahead…” Smokescreen encouraged. 

Springer licked the closed cover then drew his fingers slowly over his thighs. Smokescreen moaned, his array hot and ready. He let the cover slide open for Springer. 

While nuzzling his spike, Springer fingered his valve gently. He slid a finger in, pumping it slowly in and out. 

“You’re not bad at this at all,” Smokescreen groaned. 

“I think I’m getting it,” Springer replied. “Pay attention to who I’m with, and don’t rush.”

“Yes and yes.” Smokescreen smiled, petting Springer’s helm.

“Ready for two?” Springer asked before kissing Smokescreen’s abdomen. 

“Oh yeah, stretch me. So I can take your spike,” Smokescreen replied. 

Springer groaned at that. “Okay, I like the talking a lot.”

“It can make things more interesting, right?” Smokescreen said with a grin. 

Springer nodded then licked a headlight and slid two fingers in at once. Smokescreen groaned in response. His valve could easily stretch with his upgrades, but he didn’t need the protocols. He was wet and ready without the help. Springer soon pumped three fingers in and out. Smokescreen touched his other headlight and shivered. 

“You are  _ hot _ ,” Springer said, watching. 

That made Smokescreen smile. “Wanna move up here with me?”

Springer nodded. “Yeah.”

Springer removed his fingers and Smokescreen scooted over and laid back. Springer laid down next to him on the berth. 

Taking hold of his large hand, Smokescreen licked his fingers clean.

Springer visibly shivered. “Uh...What do you want to do next?” Springer asked.

“Well, you got me all worked up, I’m hoping you’ll ‘face me,” Smokescreen teased. 

Springer chuckled. “It’s okay you lay over top of you?” 

“That’s what you like, right? Having a smaller mech under you?” Smokescreen asked. 

“Yeah, but, well… I don’t wanna be too much. If that makes sense?” Springer looked unsure of himself. 

“You aren’t at all.” Smokescreen parted his legs for Springer. 

Springer was careful as he moved over Smokescreen. He kept his weight off him by tucking one arm next to Smokescreen’s body and carefully sliding it under his doorwing. Smokescreen ran his hands over the broad chest over him. 

“Ready?” Springer asked. 

“Definitely,” Smokescreen said with a touch of lust in his voice. 

Springer guided his spike to Smokescreen’s waiting valve with his free hand. He rubbed it over the entrance platelets several times, causing Smokescreen to moan. 

Smiling, Springer pressed forward, his large spike spreading Smokescreen’s valve around it. It was big, but not as big some others Smokescreen had been with. Springer stopped partway, then pulled back out, before thrusting in again. He did that several times, pushing in partway, pulling out completely, then thrusting in again. Smokescreen waited to see if there was a reason why he didn’t stay connected and press deeper. 

After a few moments of the same, Smokescreen decided to stop him. “Can I ask why you aren’t going all in? Or staying in?”

Springer stopped, spike partway penetrating Smokescreen. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You do this with other mechs?” Smokescreen asked. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to damage anything,” Springer replied, looking decidedly confused. 

“You won’t. Especially after fingering me. You got my valve warmed up and ready. The first full penetration might be uncomfortable but you won’t hurt me. And if you keep going, my valve will adjust and it’ll feel incredible. With a nice thick spike, it presses the nodes lining a valve all at once, which feels really good,” Smokescreen replied. “Put your other arm down under my doorwing and then thrust to the hilt.”

Springer looked vaguely worried but did as he was asked, tucking his other arm against Smokescreen. He then slowly rolled his hips forward, spike reaching the hilt finally. 

Smokescreen rolled his head back and moaned. Yeah, he had a really nice spike. He just didn’t know how to use it. “That feels amazing. I’m completely full. Stay for a moment, feel my valve rippling around you.”

Springer’s optics darkened. “It feels incredible.”

“Okay, now spike me, but don’t pull out completely,” Smokescreen said with an encouraging smile. 

Springer thrust deeply, his large spike sending waves of sensation through Smokescreen’s array. He shivered and arched beneath Springer’s larger frame. Springer mouthed the side of his helm, and started to pick up his pace. 

“Just like that,” Smokescreen said with a groan. 

Given license to thrust, Springer turned Smokescreen into molten metal in his arms in no time. He was going to get one really nice overload out of this. 

“Can you finger my wings a little?” Smokescreen asked with a whine of need. 

Springer complied, his large fingers flexing and petting Smokescreen’s doorwings where he could reach with his arms under them. 

Smokescreen moaned and shivered. 

“Frag, you are so gorgeous,” Springer crooned. 

“Thrust harder. You won’t hurt me, I’m  _ close… _ ” Smokescreen begged. 

Springer’s spike grew harder and throbbed as it filled Smokescreen with more force. Smokescreen grasped Springer’s collar fairing and arched his body as he overloaded hard. He cried out, pleasure overtaking his whole frame. 

Slowing to a stop, Springer gazed at him with amazement. “You weren’t faking?”

“Nope,” Smokescreen replied, optics dimmed with a blissed look on his face. “Don’t stop. I want more.”

Springer grinned. 

After several more minutes of Springer ‘facing him, Smokescreen overloaded yet again. This time as he let his body go lax, Springer wrapped himself over top, and thrust more insistently until he also overloaded with loud roar. Smokescreen whimpered as he felt the flood of heat fill his valve. Springer panted, clearly overheated. 

“Is it okay I lay over top of you?” Springer asked, his voice slightly static from overloading. 

“Yes,” Smokescreen replied, sliding his arms around Springer’s sides. 

Springer curled over him, resting his weight on Smokescreen’s smaller frame. It honestly felt good to be crushed under the heavier mech, but he knew that wasn’t a normal reaction. 

“That was the best interface I’ve ever had,” Springer said after a long stretch of silence. 

“I’m glad,” Smokescreen replied. 

Springer moved, pulling out and off Smokescreen to lay beside him. He lightly pet the nearby doorwing. “So, how bad was I?”

“You weren’t bad at all.” Smokescreen dimmed his optics, enjoying the touches to his doorwing. “You caught on fast, asking before doing is important.”

Springer nodded. “You looked amazing overloading.”

“Thanks.” Smokescreen grinned. “I do have one more piece of advice regarding you liking smaller mechs.”

“Oh yeah?” Springer said, looking intently at him.

“The end, laying over me. I like that feeling of being crushed. It makes me feel safe, even though I know I’m trapped. That’s not normal. But, it’s not as rare as you might think, either. Next mech you find that says it’s okay and does like it, that’s a keeper.” Smokescreen turned to his side, propping his head on his hand. “I’ve got about and hour left on my visitor key card. Wanna ‘face some more?”

Springer laughed. “It’s a good thing I’m not allowed to kiss you. I might fall for you, then.” He rolled to his back. “Wanna be on top this time? Go for a ride?”

Smokescreen nodded. “You like that, too?”

“I like a lot of things,” Springer replied. “But you helped me figure out my bigger mistakes.”

Crawling up over Springer, Smokescreen sat down over his spike with a groan. “Me too,” he replied with a sigh. 

Springer grinned. “Primus, you are  _ so _ hot…” 

Smokescreen loved the compliments, and he loved overloading. He flared his doorwings and placed his hands on Springer’s chest as started rolling his hips over the large spike filling his valve. 

This job was perfect for him. He was good at it and really enjoyed it. His cousin really shouldn’t worry. Smokescreen knew how to play not just games of luck, but mechs, too. 


	4. Ironhide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen finds himself in a new situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short. I'll post another one later today.

“How’s the job so far?” Jazz asked Smokescreen backstage at the small venue he was about to play.

Smokescreen grinned. “It’s awesome.  _ And _ , I told Prowl a couple weeks ago but I left out that you gave me the card.”

His cousin usually invited him to go when Jazz performed so he didn’t have to sit alone in the audience. Prowl was several paces away at the moment, checking in with security to make sure Jazz and Sky-byte were properly protected. 

Jazz chuckled. “I know. He told me. I pretended I didn’t know.” He winked an optic behind his visor as he put his instrument on.

“It’s been great. I’m not broke, I can pay Prowl back. And it’s really fun,” Smokescreen replied. 

“Any regulars yet?” Jazz let his fingers dance down the neck of his instrument, playing a scale to warm up. 

“Yeah, a noble. Just once a month,” Smokescreen replied. 

“Blue and white with fancy helm vents on each side?” Jazz asked. “Racer build?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Smokescreen said with a raised orbital ridge. 

“Sweet denial... I liked that one,” Jazz said chuckling as he played a few chords. “He gets attached. Just be careful.”

“Good to know,” Smokescreen replied. 

Prowl joined them, and stole a kiss from Jazz. “They seem well staffed.”

“You’re paranoid, mech.” Jazz then started playing the song he’d written for Prowl. “But I love you, so it’s okay.” 

Prowl’s doorwings twitched as he shyly smiled. Smokescreen wasn’t used to seeing his cousin with that love-sick expression on his normally stoic face, but he smiled every time he saw it. Prowl truly loved Jazz. 

Smokescreen wondered if he’d ever find someone like that. He doubted it. Who would want him? A pleasure mech that loved to gamble for fun? Still, deep down he couldn’t help but secretly hope there might be a mech out there for him, even if it felt impossible.

…

Smokescreen was tired after staying out with Prowl to watch Jazz play the previous night. He got a late start, then stopped in for a touch up wax before heading to his client’s hotel for the afternoon. 

The file hadn’t said much, but the stats indicated another large mech for today. “Wonder why they always pick me?” He thought aloud as he quickly re-read the file on his mini-datapad. He shrugged his doorwings, and turned it off, stuffing it into his subspace. 

The hotel was nice but not upscale. That meant this mech was of modest means, not that Smokescreen minded. As long as the room was clean, he could work just about anywhere. He picked up a key card and proceeded up the lift. It was funny how familiar it felt as he walked toward the room. He’d adapted pretty quickly to this new job.

Waving the card, the door opened and he entered. A large red mech was seated at a table in the corner of the room. He stood up, and stepped forward.

“Hello there. It’s Smokescreen, right? I’m Ironhide.” 

On first read, this mech looked a little nervous. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you, Ironhide.” Smokescreen gestured to the seats at the table. “Let’s sit. I gotta go over the rules, quick.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Ironhide politely waited for Smokescreen to sit first, then he joined him at the table. 

“So, first rule: no harming me,” Smokescreen started. 

“Mechs harm you?” Ironhide asked, looking concerned. 

“Some like to be rough, which is fine. But no marks or emotional abuse is allowed. Needs to be consensual,” Smokescreen explained. 

Ironhide frowned a little. “Nah, I’d never be rough or hurt ya. Promise.”

Smokescreen nodded. “I appreciate that. Okay, rule two: no kissing on the mouth. But you can kiss me anywhere else.”

Ironhide half-smiled. “Got it.”

“And rule three: if either of us are uncomfortable we can end the session. All sound good?” Smokescreen asked. 

“Yeah. All good rules,” Ironhide replied. 

“I looked at your file and you didn’t have any specific requests. How about you tell me what you’re into?” Smokescreen put on an easy-going smile. 

“To be honest, I  _ didn’t _ buy your time. This was a gift from a friend.” Ironhide folded his hands on the table and looked down at them. “See, a few cycles back I was engaged to be bonded when I walked in on my intended and another mech...‘facing. I haven’t dated at all since.”

Smokescreen sadly frowned. Maybe this mech just wanted a good time, since it had been a while. Smokescreen was up for that. “I’m sorry, that sucks slag.”

“Yeah, well, thing is…” Ironhide half-frowned. “I don’t do casual. I need a connection to feel, you know, turned on by anyone. But I didn’t wanna reject the gift,” Ironhide explained. 

“So...you  _ don’t _ want to interface?” Smokescreen asked, surprised. 

“Yeah. I don’t know you well enough,” Ironhide replied. “But you were specifically suggested so I picked you. And I’ve thought a bunch about how this was gonna go an’ I did have one request.” 

“Oh? What is it?” Smokescreen asked, intrigued. 

“I was hoping maybe you’d just lay with me? Let me hold ya? That’s what I miss. Feeling someone in my arms,” Ironhide replied. 

This was not at all how Smokescreen thought his afternoon was going to go. 

Smokescreen took a moment to think it over. And afternoon of cuddling? It wasn’t a weird ask really. Plenty of clients liked to snuggle post-overload, so this wasn’t that different. “Yeah, sure. I’m up for that.”

Ironhide looked surprised but also happy. “I was worried you might bolt. Thanks.”

Smokescreen got up, and took Ironhide’s hand. “Let’s lay down. I’m not allowed to recharge, and because of the doorwings, I gotta lay front first or on my side. Otherwise, you can hold me however you like.”

Ironhide stood up and they walked to the berth. He laid back first, spreading an arm out and patting his side. “Against here, good?”

Smokescreen crawled up and flopped against him, smiling. “Yup.” He pressed his body against Ironhide’s larger frame and slid one arm across his broad chest while resting his head on the nearby shoulder. 

Ironhide wrapped his arm around Smokescreen and gently rubbed the small of his back. “Primus, I’d forgotten how nice this is.”

Ironhide petting his back instantly brought up a sparklinghood memory of Prowl holding Smokescreen in a similar way, comforting him when he used to cry for his creators. Smokescreen dimmed his optics, letting the memory meld with the sensation of being held by Ironhide. An unexpected sadness and longing made his spark feel funny. 

“So, tell me, do ya like yer job?” Ironhide asked, lightly stroking Smokescreen’s arm over his chest. 

_ Focus _ . He was here for Ironhide, not to dwell on forever-ago memories. “Yeah. I do. It’s been good for me,” Smokescreen replied. “I know it’s not a job that most mechs think of as respectable, though.”

“I got no issues with pleasure mechs. You do somethin’ important for mechs that need it,” Ironhide replied. 

After a beat of silence, Smokescreen twirled his fingers over Ironhide’s chest. “I’m really curious, who recommended me to you?” he asked. “I’ve only been at this job a few weeks.”

“An old supervisor of mine. I meet him for energon from time to time,” Ironhide replied. 

“Old? As in… actually old?” Smokescreen asked.

Ironhide chuckled. “Yeah, as in so old he remembers back three Primes ago. K—”

“Kup,” they said in unison. They both laughed.

Smokescreen turned his head to look at the side of Ironhide’s face. “So wait. You’re an elite guard to the Prime?”

Ironhide nodded. “Sure am.”

“That old mech really wore me out,” Smokescreen said, half-smiling. 

“I bet. He ran circles around us, and he’s at least five times our age. Only reason he retired was because Sentinel Prime asked him to.” Ironhide laughed. “Crazy old mech.”

Smokescreen enjoyed how Ironhide’s laugh resonated deeply in his broad chest and cuddled in closer, letting his frame relax. This  _ was _ really nice. He’d not experienced much affection in his life. Even if this wasn’t quite genuine, being paid for, it still made him feel warm inside. 

“You miss Praxis?” Ironhide asked.

“No. It was stifling for me there. I love Iacon. It’s a lot more fun. More opportunities,” Smokescreen replied. “You always lived here?”

“Yeah, most of my life. I’ve been stationed all over, though,” Ironhide answered. 

“So military service before the elite guard?” Smokescreen asked, finding this mech pretty interesting.

“Yep. Didn’t know what else to do when I was first in my adult upgrades, so I just entered the military. Did a lot of growing up while I served. Got out and decided to join the enforcement agency. Then was hand-picked for the guard,” Ironhide explained. 

“My cousin is a detective. Used to be an enforcer, too,” Smokescreen replied. 

“Oh yeah? I considered the detective route, but got picked for the guard,” Ironhide replied. He gently hugged Smokescreen to his side. “I can see why Kup thought I’d like you.”

“I’m a handful, if you ask my cousin. Not much of a catch,” Smokescreen said, shrugging his doorwings. 

Ironhide reached up to lightly touch a doorwing. “I’ve known you for just a little bit, and I don’t think yer givin’ yourself enough credit. Yer charming and very pretty.”

“Thanks. Glad you think so. You’re charming, too.  _ And _ handsome.” Smokescreen couldn’t help flirting. This mech was his type, older, large, handsome. 

Ironhide chuckled. “I appreciate the compliment.”

“Yer cousin, so you got family here?” Ironhide asked.

Smokescreen knew it was dangerous to get too personal. Zetca had warned him to be vigilant when it came to clients asking about his life. Despite feeling it was safe in his spark, he decided to do as Zetca recommended. “Family here, family in Praxis,” Smokescreen replied, remaining vague.

“Too personal, sorry. Told ya, I need to feel a connection to get turned on,” Ironhide replied with a sheepish smile.

“If you got to know me, then you’d want to interface?” Smokescreen asked.

“Yeah. Just a weird quirk of mine,” Ironhide replied, petting Smokescreen’s arm over his chest.

“How long does it take? What I mean is, if we did this a few times, would you be ready to interface?” Smokescreen asked, curious.

“Maybe, yeah,” Ironhide replied. 

Smokescreen snuggled in and smiled. “Then ask me whatever you want.”

Ironhide chuckled. “You really love interfacing, huh?”

“Yup. And I love a challenge. Why do you think I do this job?” Smokescreen asked. 

Ironhide laughed and squeezed him against his body. “Then tell me something about yerself.”

Smokescreen smiled as he turned his gaze upward to look at Ironhide. “Anything?”

“Anything you wanna share,” Ironhide replied.

“I love gambling. Mostly I play Countdown, but I like placing bets, too. It’s a big reason why my cousin thinks I’m reckless,” Smokescreen replied.

“You lose a lot?” Ironhide asked. 

“Sometimes. I mean, I’m good at Countdown. That’s all about reading the table as much as luck of the draw. I’ve definitely lost big but usually on the races. I always pick the racer with the longest odds.”

“Longest odds, biggest thrill if it pays off,” Ironhide said, smiling. “Makes sense.”

“It’s more than that. Even when I lose, I like that feeling, too. Burning disappointment,” Smokescreen added, optics dimming a little as he thought about it. “I spent so long not feeling much of anything, being raised in a safe little bubble and having everything controlled. I want to feel everything I can now. Do things that are out of control... I know, I sound messed up, huh?”

Ironhide lightly ran his fingers down Smokescreen’s cheek. “Not at all.”

“My cousin would disagree.” Smokescreen smiled, pressing into Ironhide’s touch. 

Ironhide gazed at him intensely. “You’re full of life. It’s beautiful. Not messed up.”

Smokescreen felt his face heat at the comment. Being complimented on his looks was a nice ego boost, but being told his desire to feel alive was beautiful… that was making his spark feel funny. 

They grew quiet, but it was a companionable sort of quiet. Ironhide pet Smokescreen’s frame, gently hugged him, and nuzzled his helm. Smokescreen found himself happily enjoying the open affection. It made him feel special and wanted for more than his array. 

After a little while, Ironhide stilled and slipped into a light recharge. Smokescreen stayed awake, letting himself enjoy the simple act of being close to him. This hadn’t been how he imagined his afternoon going but he felt warm and wanted. A rare feeling for him, and one he wanted to cling to as long as possible. He'd likely never have what his cousin did with Jazz, but he could imagine how it might be laying in the arms of this mech. Too bad he wasn't dating material. 


	5. Thundercracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having doorwings doesn't mean he can fly, but it does make him appealing to a certain type of client.

“This week’s clients,” Zetca said, handing Smokescreen a mini-datapad. 

Smokescreen glanced over the files. “Ironhide?”

“Congrats, you have your first regular that I didn’t assign you. He gave you really good marks. Just be careful, emotional attachments are not allowed. You let me know if it gets too personal,” Zetca replied. 

Too personal? Attachments? It was weird, Smokescreen expected clients getting attached to him, not the other way around. He’d not stopped thinking about that afternoon with Ironhide for days now. He kept his field calm, not giving away his internal struggle, though. 

“That’s cool,” Smokescreen replied, putting on his easy-going smile. He opened the next file, his smile fading as he read the request. “Is this really okay?”

“You tell me. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll have him choose a different agent,” Zetca replied. “He’s used our services before, and never harmed anyone. But it does mean there will be a voyestic aspect in addition to the request.”

Smokescreen looked at the image of the client. He was very handsome. “He picked me because of my doorwings?”

“Yes,” Zetca answered.

“Alright, I’m up for it,” Smokescreen replied. 

“Here.” Zetca handed a Smokescreen an emergency ping transmitter. “It attaches to your hand. I will have a flier on stand by if you do need help.”

Smokescreen took it, nodding. He then flipped to the last client of the week, a mech just looking for a a good time. “They all look good to me.”

Zetca smiled. “Good. I’ve found your doorwings are a trait many of the clients are intrigued by. You’re one of my most requested agents. I’m glad you’re enjoying the work.”

Smokescreen grinned. “Doesn’t feel like work to me.”

Zetca chuckled. “Glad to hear that.”

…

Big mechs, two mechs at the same time, small mechs, cute mechs, face mask mechs; Smokescreen had interfaced with just about every kind of mech. This was going to be a first, though, and he did feel nervous. 

An attendant stood on the lift with Smokescreen, staring forward. This client apparently had credits to burn. He was only visiting Iacon but brought along an attendant. Once the lift stopped, the attendant led Smokescreen down the corridor and opened the door to the top level suite. 

“Wait here,” the attendant said, pointing to the floor just inside the doorway.

Smokescreen stood on the spot. He could see the suite was huge beyond the entryway. Large windows lined most of the walls, and there was a balcony, too. This was the tallest hotel in Iacon, and he never imagined being in the swankiest room here. 

A silhouette appeared outside the windows and landed on the balcony. The large flier stepped inside and his attendant was quickly at his side, wiping his frame down with a cloth. 

The elite Vosian crossed the suite to the foyer where Smokescreen stood waiting. “You must be Smokescreen.”

“That’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Thundercracker,” Smokescreen said, trying to seem far more confident than he actually felt. 

Thundercracker looked Smokescreen up and down. “Let’s get the formalities out of the way. You have your rules to recite, correct?”

“Yeah.” 

“Go ahead,” Thundercracker said, waving at him to get on with it.

“Rule one: no harming me,” Smokescreen started.

“Of course not,” Thundercracker replied. 

“Rule two: no kissing on the mouth.”

“Agreed.”

“Rule three: if either of us are uncomfortable, the encounter ends.”

“Of course,” Thundercracker replied. “Now, slowly turn so I can get a look at you.”

Smokescreen did as he was asked, turning slowly around while Thundercracker ogled him. 

The elite flier stepped in closer and touched one of his doorwings. “It’s odd to have such useless appendages. Praxians are a strange lot.”

“Won’t argue with you on Praxians being weird, but I think my doorwings are nice,” Smokescreen replied, lifting them up slightly. 

Thundercracker chuckled. “You’re not bad looking for a ground pounder.” 

He walked around Smokescreen slowly, looking him over. Apparently his twirl hasn’t been enough. Thundercracker touched his aft then trailed his fingers over his hip as he walked around toward his front. 

“How do you feel about flying?” Thundercracker asked.

“I’ve been in shuttles lots of times,” Smokescreen replied. 

“This will be different than that.” Thundercracker canted his head. “Do you know why I chose you?”

“The doorwings?” Smokescreen guessed. 

“Partly. I looked you up, though. I’ve never seen a Praxian pleasure mech. I was intensely curious. You’re from a family of means in Praxis. I’m surprised you don’t speak in an upper class manner,” Thundercracker said, smirking.

“I am able to speak in a proper and more upper class manner if that’s what you prefer,” Smokescreen replied, instantly switching to how he used to speak around his uncles. 

Thundercracker laughed. “That’s delightful, but I’d much rather you be yourself. I want this to be fun for both of us.”

Smokescreen relaxed a little at that. “Okay, good. It’s not my true nature to be that way.”

“You’re possibly the most interesting agent I’ve chosen so far.” Thundercracker flexed his large, aerodynamic wings. “Let’s go for a short flight. See how comfortable you are with it.”

Smokescreen nodded. “To be honest, I’m kinda nervous. But I’ll try just about anything once to see if I like it.”

“That’s all I expect. I know it’s not for everyone, and I will indulge in your array either way.” Thundercracker offered a hand. 

Smokescreen took the larger mech’s hand and they walked to the balcony. 

“Anything I should know?” Smokescreen asked, looking down at the city below. 

“If you’re going to purge your tank, give me some warning,” Thundercracker replied. He stepped behind Smokescreen and wrapped both arms firmly around him. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Smokescreen replied. 

Thundercracker chuckled, then lifted off into the air, hugging Smokescreen to his body. The air rushed around them. It was heavy and whipping over their plating. Once they’d reached a higher altitude, Thundercracker leveled out and flew with his back to the ground below and holding Smokescreen tightly to his chest. 

Staring up at the sky, Smokescreen was impressed at how many more stars were visible high above the light pollution of Iacon. “It’s beautiful!” He yelled over the sound of the air whooshing around them. 

“It is,” Thundercracker slowed, floating along. The sound of the air quieted. “How is your tank? Feeling queasy at all?”

“Nope. That was actually a lot of fun coming up here so fast!” Smokescreen replied, excitedly.

“I’d hoped by your build that flying would be a comfortable activity. I’m pleased I was correct,” Thundercracker said. He tightened one arm around Smokescreen’s middle, and ran his other hand down the length of his body. He cupped Smokescreen’s array with his hand and rubbed the closed cover. “Warm already.”

Smokescreen laughed. “I’m high above the ground, being groped by an elite flier, if I wasn’t turned on I’d be in the wrong job.”

Thundercracker chuckled. “Interfacing in the air takes great focus for two fliers. And it's frowned upon to interface with a ground pounder,” Thundercracker said as he stroked Smokescreen. “Which is why I like to indulge in this taboo. With another flier, the fear of falling comes at the moment of overload, but with a ground pounder the fear of falling is constant for you.”

Smokescreen shivered as he was touched, listening to the low, thickly elite accented flier speak into his audio. He might fall, and that was actually part of why he was so turned on so fast. “I’m kinda a thrill seeker.”

“I see that,” Thundercracker said, fingers moving to tease a headlight. “I chose wisely.”

Smokescreen smiled, head hazy from the touches and dizzying heights they were at. 

“Let’s return to the suite, and I’ll get you properly equipped.” Thundercracker flipped over and they descended quickly.

It was definitely more spark pounding going down toward the ground than coming up. Smokescreen’s hazy head cleared quickly. It was terrifying and thrilling. He  _ loved _ it. 

Landing on the balcony, Thundercracker set Smokescreen on his feet. The attendant came running out, wiping condensation off Thundercracker first, then wiping condensation off Smokescreen after. He felt mildly embarrassed, but the attendant didn’t appear bothered by his task. 

“Come inside, let’s get you a bit of fuel,” Thundercracker said, walking back into the suite. 

Smokescreen followed, and took an offered cube, but then sadly smiled. “I appreciate this, I do. But Zetca doesn’t allow me to take energon from clients.”

“Oh. That’s a pity. That’s energon from Vos. It has a different mineral content. Perhaps you can stow it in subspace to enjoy later?” Thundercracker replied. 

“If you insist, sure,” Smokescreen put it in his subspace, and retrieved a personal ration to drink. 

“So. I’d like to equip you with an attachment before we interface in the air. I will likely lose myself in overload and let go of you momentarily. To ensure your safety—“ Thundercracker walked to his large berth, pulling back the canopy curtain to reveal some items laid out. “I have two options for keeping us connected.”

Smokescreen finished his ration and joined the larger flier, looking at the choices. One was a small strap attached to a belt with a thin energon chain. The other was a harness with an energon chain coming from the center and attached to a collar. “You’re letting me choose?”

“I am. As I said, I want this to be enjoyable for both of us,” Thundercracker replied. 

Smokescreen pointed. “The collar.”

Thundercracker’s wings perked up slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yup.” Smokescreen looked up at Thundercracker. “You want a pet grounder to ‘face, don’t you?”

Thundercracker’s optics darkened in hue. “May I use the collar to control you as well?”

Turning to face his client, Smokescreen held his gaze. “I’m here to please you. As long as you abide by the rules, and you don’t hurt me, you can control me. Use me.”

Reaching up, Thundercracker cupped Smokescreen’s face. “Would you enjoy that?”

“Absolutely,” Smokescreen replied.

Thundercracker smiled, then motioned to his attendant. “Help me put the harness on.”

The attendant came over, and helped Thundercracker. The straps were wrapped around the flier's robust frame and snapped in place. Once on, the attendant stepped back. Thundercracker moved forward, and slipped the collar around Smokescreen’s neck, tightening it and snapping it down. 

Smokescreen stood obediently. 

The attendant then left them, pulling a curtain to give them some privacy. 

Thundercracker let his fingers slide over the energon chain, then he grasped it. “From this moment forward, you belong to me. You do as I say when I say. If you disobey, I will punish you. Understood?”

“Yes,” Smokescreen replied. 

Thundercracker yanked the chain, forcing Smokescreen to step forward. “Does it turn you on? Being dominated?”

“My valve is hot and we haven’t even done anything yet,” Smokescreen replied, doorwings fluttering. 

“Open your array.” Thundercracker’s gaze moved down Smokescreen’s frame. 

Array cover opening, Smokescreen was undeniably excited. He’d not been tied up and dominated like this in a long time. He used to go home with a spindly mech at the Two Moon Energon Cafe on occasion who’d collar him and frag him hard. Knowing he’d be airborne at the same time as he was forced to be submissive had his array hot and ready. 

Thundercracker pet Smokescreen’s body with his free hand. He sank his fingers into his wet valve, and smirked. “Eager, hm?”

“I am.” Smokescreen shivered. 

“Come this way,” Thundercracker replied, removing his fingers. He yanked on the chain, leading Smokescreen by the neck out to the balcony. 

Thundercracker let his array open. “On your knees.”

Dropping down, Smokescreen found himself face to face with a large, flare-headed spike. His valve rippled just looking at it. He leaned forward to mouth the head, but was yanked away by the chain. 

“You only act when I say so,” Thundercracker said, an edge of lust in his voice. 

“May I suck your spike?” Smokescreen asked. 

Thundercracker pet his helm. “Yes, yes you may.”

Smokescreen mouthed the head, flicking his glossa out to swirl over it. It was shaped to give pleasure, flared edges on the head and ribbing down the shaft. He swallowed the large spike as best he could. 

Thundercracker groaned, petting his helm encouragingly.

Smokescreen did his best to deep throat the large spike, letting it go down his intake as much as he could without gagging. His head bobbed, and he dimmed his optics, enjoying how Thundercracker tasted. 

Suddenly the chain was yanked tight, and Smokescreen was forced to swallow more. His mouth and throat were filled with his large, hard spike that throbbed. He gagged slightly, but didn’t move.

The chain went slack. 

“Let’s get airborne.” Thundercracker pet Smokescreen’s chevron. 

Pulling off, Smokescreen licked his lips.

“On your feet. Grasp my shoulders,” Thundercracker ordered.

Smokescreen obeyed, standing up and grabbing Thundercracker’s broad shoulders. He was lifted up by his aft, and scrambled to hook his knees on Thundercracker’s hips so he didn’t slide down. He was then lowered slowly over Thundercracker’s large spike. It felt as good as he’d imagined, that flared head pressing deep nodes inside his valve as it filled him. 

Smokescreen moaned. 

Thundercracker smirked. “You like that, hm?”

Nodding, Smokescreen squeezed his valve around the thick spike, earning him a moan from Thundercracker.

“Ready?” Thundercracker asked.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen replied, letting his excitement color his EM field. 

Thundercracker took off, just as fast as their test flight. Being impaled on his spike combined with the vibration and the air whipping over his plating and doorwings felt incredible. Pleasure rippled over his sensory net and he very nearly overloaded from external sensory input alone. Smokescreen whimpered as he fought to keep himself in check.

Leveling, Thundercracker laughed. “You may overload. It’s quite common to experience pleasure from the ascent itself.”

Smokescreen pressed his face into Thundercracker’s shoulder, and cried out, doorwings quivering on his back and valve rippling as he overloaded. “Sorry…”

“No need to apologize. Your body reacts like a flier’s would,” Thundercracker replied, reaching out to touch Smokescreen’s doorwings. 

Unlike before, Thundercracker didn’t hold Smokescreen tightly. The harness and chain meant Smokescreen wouldn’t fall unless Thundercracker was falling. It allowed for more freedom of movement.

“Fliers overload from sensory net, too?” Smokescreen asked, panting a little as he recovered his senses quickly. 

“Oh yes. Wing play is often done prior to linking arrays.” Thundercracker ran both hands down each side of Smokescreen’s body as he floated on his back. “Now, sit up. And let’s get to it.”

Smokescreen pushed himself to sit up, seeing the city far below. He was on a flying island, mid air. It was definitely the craziest place he’d ever interfaced. He placed his hands on either side of Thundercracker’s cockpit, and gyrated his hips. 

They both groaned. Primus, his spike was one of the best Smokescreen had ever had. He rolled his hips and started to ride the thick spike, rising and falling over it. 

Thundercracker pet his body, and touched his doorwings. “Very good, my little ground pounder,” he crooned. “Does it feel good?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Smokescreen replied, voice thick with lust.

The chain was yanked, forcing Smokescreen to lay over Thundercracker’s body. “Be still.” 

Smokescreen obeyed. Thundercracker took over, thrusting hard and deep into Smokescreen’s valve. He trembled against the flier, lost in heady pleasure. 

“No overloading until I say, understood?” Thundercracker ordered. 

Smokescreen nodded as he moaned. He wasn’t sure he could hold on, though. The wind moving over his body was sending extra sensory information which intensified his pleasure. 

Thundercracker slowed his thrusts, and then stopped, lifting Smokescreen off his spike by his aft. 

Smokescreen whimpered at the sudden emptiness between his legs. 

“Something wrong, my pet?” Thundercracker asked, clearly enjoying his control over Smokescreen.

“My valve is empty now,” Smokescreen replied, turning his gaze toward Thundercracker and looking at him. “May I please be fragged more?”

Thundercracker grinned. “I would like more of your mouth first.”

Smokescreen’s spark pulsed hard with fear and excitement. He nodded, and moved down, making sure he grasped Thundercracker tightly as they flew through the air so he wouldn’t fall. Fingers tightly wrapped around Thundercracker’s waist, Smokescreen let his lower body slide off and dangle in the wind as he swallowed Thundercracker’s spike again. 

He knew if he lost his grip the chain would keep him attached but it was still unnerving to have the wind whipping around his body as he sucked on Thundercracker’s spike. The flier was more aggressive in the air, holding his head with both hands so his large spike would gag him purposely now and again. Smokescreen didn’t mind, though. Being used like this turned him on. 

Thundercracker suddenly pulled on the chain upward, forcing Smokescreen‘s head up and away from his spike. “That’ll do.”

Smokescreen started to move up again, but Thundercracker had other ideas. “Let go.”

“Let go?” Smokescreen repeated as a question. 

“Yes. Let go of me and let yourself fly,” Thundercracker replied. 

Spark pulsing hard, Smokescreen was terrified. He then smiled and let go. The wind lifted him off Thundercracker and he flew over him, pulled along in the air by the collar. It felt incredible. Thundercracker increased his speed and Smokescreen was pulled with him by the neck. 

Slowing again, Thundercracker tugged Smokescreen back to his body. “How was that?”

“Fragging awesome,” Smokescreen replied, grasping Thundercracker’s shoulders. 

“Lay over me.” Thundercracker directed. 

Smokescreen did as he was told, and was rewarded with that amazing spike spreading him open again. Thundercracker then began to thrust deep and faster than before. Smokescreen was soon left trembling on the edge of overloading. 

“May I overload?” Smokescreen asked, whining as pleasure overwhelmed his array and entire sensory net. 

“Not yet,” Thundercracker replied, voice strained from his efforts. He groaned as he thrust harder, jarring Smokescreen’s whole frame.

Smokescreen whimpered and moaned. This was going to be one intense overload… “Please?” He begged.

“Not yet,” Thundercracker replied, swatting his aft.

“Please!” Smokescreen cried out, barely keeping himself in control.

Thundercracker stopped and swatted his aft again, hard. It stung. The spanking helped keep his overload at bay. “No, only when I say.” Thundercracker then resumed thrusting hard and deep.

“I  _ need _ to… please?” Smokescreen asked yet again.

Another hard swat. 

Thundercracker trembled, his spike was throbbing and hot as it penetrated Smokescreen over and over. 

Smokescreen grasped at Thundercracker’s plating and smooshed his face into his neck. “Please!” He begged. 

“Yes, now!” Thundercracker commanded. 

Crying out, Smokescreen’s entire body shuddered with overload. His valve squeezed that beautiful spike, clenching around it as he was swept away with the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Oh yes!” Thundercracker yelled, his spike flooding Smokescreen’s valve as he arched his entire body in the air and overloaded. 

Smokescreen moaned, that heat filling him prolonging his own overload. After a moment, though, he realized Thundercracker had offlined. The flier’s body had gone limp and began to free fall.

Terror replaced pleasure, as Smokescreen’s body was separated from Thundercracker’s by the air whipping around them. The collar kept them linked, though. As the ground below got closer, Smokescreen considered using his emergency palm communicator to call for help. But then Thundercracker onlined, his heel jets kicking on and he shot back up in the air, Smokescreen pulled along by the collar that choked him. 

As if coming to his senses, Thundercracker finally slowed. He pulled Smokescreen back up by the chain. “You alright?” He asked. 

Smokescreen clung to Thundercracker. “Yeah. Not a energon puddle on the sidewalk. I’m good.”

Thundercracker chuckled, hugging Smokescreen to his chest.. “Haven’t had one of Zetca’s mechs offline me in overload before. That was quite wonderful.”

Smokescreen held on tightly. “Here to please.”

Laughing, Thundercracker turned and flew back toward the hotel. He landed and set Smokescreen on his feet, but kept a firm grasp on him. “Your internal gyroscopes will need a moment to realign.”

“The ground does feel like it moving…” Smokescreen admitted, happy to continue holding onto the larger mech for balance.

“Overloading in the air for a grounder is disorienting,” Thundercracker replied. “You were very good up there, though.”

“Like I said, I’ll try anything once. To be honest, I’d do that again.” Smokescreen grinned, his systems beginning to normalize. 

“I don’t want to overwhelm your body’s systems with another flight today, but I’d be interested in seeing you the next time I’m here.” Thundercracker ran his hands over Smokescreen’s doorwings. “And I would be interested in playing more in the berth if you’re up for it?”

Smokescreen lit up at that. “Can I keep the collar on?”

Chuckling, Thundercracker nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Let me fuel up again, and then we can ‘face more,” Smokescreen replied with a smile. 

“Excellent,” Thundercracker replied.

Primus, he loved this job. He loved Iacon, a place where he could stand on the edge of danger, feel the burn of disappointment, and the high of winning. He didn’t ever want to go back to a mundane life again.


	6. Bumblebee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen finds things are changing for him, and has an unusual but nice time with a new client.

Several weeks later:

Being cuddled and held, chatting and listening, these were things Smokescreen had never really experienced before meeting Ironhide. He’d become a regular, and this was their tenth paid date.

Letting his guard down around Ironhide felt good. He’d talked a lot about his life in Praxis and his new life in Iacon. He’d listened to Ironhide tell him stories of his travels and stories about his own personal life. They got along really well. Seeing Ironhide each week had become what he looked forward to most. 

This week he walked up to the room, tapped the keycard on the lock, and entered like he always had. But this time Ironhide had a different look on his face. It was one filled with uncertainty and worry. Not the usual warm smile. 

“Hey, handsome,” Smokescreen said as he sauntered into the room and sat next to Ironhide on the end of the berth. 

“Hello beautiful,” Ironhide replied, his uncertain look melting into his usual warm smile. 

That was better. Smokescreen grinned in response. “How’s your week been?”

“The usual. Travelled to Vos with the Prime for a conference. It’s a beautiful city state.” Ironhide’s warm smile faded, and that worried look returned. “To be honest, I spent most of the week thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Me? Why?” Smokescreen asked, his spark suddenly feeling funny.

“Last week, when we saw each other, I felt somethin’ I hadn’t in a long time…” Ironhide averted his gaze. “You got my array buzzing.”

Smokescreen lit up at that. “I did?”

“Yeah, and it made me wonder. We could keep goin’ on like this. I pay to see you, maybe even ‘face, but that isn’t what I want.” Ironhide looked back up at Smokescreen and reached over to take hold of one of his hands. “Tell me somethin’, is everything you told me ‘bout yourself true?”

Smokescreen nodded. “Yeah. Actually, I’ve told you stuff I never even told my cousin.”

“Then, I think this weekly meetin’ up here should end,” Ironhide replied. 

It felt like Smokescreen’s spark had dropped down into his fuel tank. This mech didn’t want to see him anymore? But he’d done everything Ironhide wanted, hadn’t he? It was at that moment Smokescreen realized just how attached he’d gotten to Ironhide. “Why?” 

Ironhide then warmly smiled. “Smokescreen, I’d like to date you fer real. Would you go out with me?”

Confused, Smokescreen frowned. “What?”

“I wanna date you. Pursue a relationship,” Ironhide replied. 

“Me? You want to date  _ me _ ?” 

Ironhide chuckled, lifting Smokescreen’s hand to his lips, and kissing the backs of his fingers. “Yes,  _ you _ .”

“I’m a pleasure mech with a gambling problem. Why in the name of Primus would you wanna date me?” Smokescreen asked. 

“I don’t care yer a pleasure mech, and there isn’t nothing wrong with likin’ to have fun.” Ironhide seemed almost amused by Smokescreen’s reaction. 

Staring at the older mech, Smokescreen considered what it would be like to not ever see him again if he turned his offer down. Just the thought made his spark ache. “Okay.”

“Okay… you’ll go out with me?” Ironhide asked. 

“Yeah.”

Ironhide brightly smiled, then pulled Smokescreen into a hug. “I promise I’ll be good to you.”

“One thing. Um…” Smokescreen pulled back and looked into Ironhide’s optics. “I’ve never been in a relationship before. I don’t really know how it’s supposed to work?”

“We’ll take it slow. Figure it out together. Sound good?” Ironhide gently ran his fingers down Smokescreen’s cheek. 

“ _ Really _ good.” 

…

The next day:

In a daze, Smokescreen got off the shuttle. His client was in an area he never went to in Iacon: Vespertine Blue. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Ironhide. About dating someone, especially a former client. Smokescreen worried he was breaking some Zetca rule, but he’d checked his contract and it didn’t say he couldn’t date.  Zetca had verbally advised him not to, though.

“Hey! Watch it you big idiot!”

Smokescreen had been so wrapped up in his head he’d not noticed where exactly he was, and bumped into a minibot. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

The minibot scowled. “You don’t belong here,” he replied before storming off in a huff. 

It was then Smokescreen looked around. He was the tallest mech here. Vespertine Blue was apparently the minibot district. He looked around, spotting the tallest building which was also the only hotel here. He entered, imagining how it must feel to be a triple changer among mechs his size. 

At the counter, Smokescreen put on a charming smile. “I’m here to see Bumblebee.”

“Of course you are,” the reception mech groused. “That mech should just move into Iacon proper, then he can do what he wants and we don’t gotta know about it.”

Smokescreen’s smile faded to a look of surprise. He didn’t say anything, though. 

The reception mech tossed a keycard on the counter. “Room fourteen twelve.”

“Thanks,” Smokescreen replied. He picked up the card and decided to hunt for the elevator himself. After wandering around the lobby a bit, he found it, and hopped on. 

At the room, he knocked, then used key card to enter. It was a nice room. A large round berth stood in the middle, a washrack to the left, and a sofa and table next to the floor to ceiling window to the right. It appeared the room was empty, though. 

Smokescreen wandered to the window and looked at the minibots rushing around below. He didn’t belong here, that mech was right. But he knew that just like he enjoyed riding a triple changer’s huge spike, minibots liked his size to interface with, too. 

The room door opened and a yellow minibot walked in with a handled case. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries.” Smokescreen gestured to the sofa. “Let’s sit.”

The minibot set his case on the table and they sat side by side. “I’m Bumblebee.” He offered his hand.

Taking the offered hand, Smokescreen shook it. “I’m Smokescreen.”

“So, want to go over the rules?” Bumblebee prompted. Clearly he was a regular client of Zetca’s. 

“Yeah, of course. Rule one: no harming me.”

“Not a problem,” Bumblebee replied.

“Rule two: no kissing on the mouth.”

“Like I can reach,” Bumblebee replied, laughing at his own joke. “Seriously, though, yeah. No making out, check.”

Smokescreen chuckled. This mech was pretty cute. “Rule three: if either of us are uncomfortable, the encounter ends.”

“Got it. So, here’s the deal. We’re gonna ‘face, but you’re not allowed to touch me.” Bumblebee reached over, opening his case. He took out a wrist restraint to show Smokescreen. “I’m going to tie you down to the berth, and do what I want. You good with that?”

Smokescreen was surprised how quickly Bumblebee got to the point, but had no issue with the request. “Yeah, that’s all fine. May I ask why you don’t wanna be touched?”

“I like mechs bigger than me.” Bumblebee stood, picking up his case and walking to the berth. “I used to just go into Iacon proper, pick up a cute mech in a bar. But I picked up one that was too big for me. I got beat up bad, and spent three weeks in the hospital.”

Smokescreen got up and joined him at the berth. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

“Since then, I only use paid for mechs.” Bumblebee took out his restraints and lengths of energon rope. “Lay down in the middle and spread out your arms and legs.”

Smokescreen did as he was asked. He laid back, watching as Bumblebee set to work, attaching a restraint to his wrist then tying it to the leg of the berth. He moved around to the end, and secured each leg the same way, making sure Smokescreen had them spread open. 

At the other wrist, Bumblebee paused, looking at Smokescreen. “You don’t have any other prying questions?”

Smokescreen looked at him. “No. Should I?”

Bumblebee canted his head. “Most mechs I pay for wanna help me get over my fear of being touched by your kind.”

“I’m not here to be your therapist. I’m here to get you off, and if I’m lucky, get off myself. If this is how you like it, that’s cool with me,” Smokescreen replied. 

Bumblebee laughed as he tied down Smokescreen’s other arm. “You’re not what I expected.”

“I’m just myself,” Smokescreen replied, shrugging his doorwings; they scraped against the berthpadding. “Considering most mechs pick me because of my doorwings, it’s kinda nice to just be wanted for my array.”

“Your doorwings are pretty,” Bumblebee replied. “But not why I picked you. I’ve been moving through Zetca’s catalog. Thing is—“ He got up onto the berth, and pet Smokescreen’s body with his small hand. “You’re all the same size.”

“Same size? Really?” Smokescreen had no idea who else worked for Zetca. It was a big secret. He did know Jazz was about his build height, though. Just a little shorter.

“Yep. Medium builds, either cute or pretty. Sometimes cute  _ and _ pretty. But mostly the same frame size,” Bumblebee replied with a shrug. 

“I had no idea we were all so similar,” Smokescreen replied. 

Bumblebee fingered a headlight. “Very similar, which means even modded, your spikes are about the same, too.” 

Smokescreen dimmed his optics as Bumblebee teased his headlight. “You looking for something bigger?”

“I used to go for warrior class sizes when I frequented bars,” Bumblebee replied. 

“Well, then you’re gonna like what’s under the cover,” Smokescreen replied with a smirk. 

Bumblebee looked dubious. He turned, rubbing the closed cover for a moment. “Open up.”

Smokescreen let the array cover slide open, revealing his spike, white with blue and red stripes down the sides. “It’s big for my frame. But that’s how my code outputted at adult upgrades.”

Optics bright, Bumblebee ran his fingers over the shaft as it onlined. “Is it modded?”

“Nope. Zetca let me keep it as is. I got software and valve control upgrades, but he left my spike how it’s always been. Truth is, most mechs prefer spiking me, so I don’t get to use it too much.” Smokescreen half-smiled. 

“It’s beautiful,” Bumblebee replied. He wrapped both his smaller hands around and massaged it to fully online. “It’s huge for your frame.”

“I know,” Smokescreen replied with a rumble to his voice. 

“This is gonna be fun,” Bumblebee said, looking back up at Smokescreen and grinning. He then played with his spike for a moment, squeezing it and petting it. “But first thing’s first.” 

Bumblebee opened his array and pumped his own spike in his hand before moving to the head of the berth. “I don’t often get to be the one towering over another mech.” 

Bumblebee leaned over him, one hand on the berth to steady himself, and pressed his spike to Smokescreen’s lips. Parting them, he swallowed Bumblebee’s spike. Dimming his optics, he swirled his glossa around it. It was a decent sized spike for a minibot, filling his mouth completely. He suckled the head as Bumblebee started to pull it out before thrusting forward again. Smokescreen responded, keeping his lips parted so Bumblebee could frag his mouth without resistance. He made sure to slide his glossa around the shaft each time Bumblebee thrust in, causing the minibot to moan. 

“You’re  _ really _ good,” Bumblebee groaned, petting Smokescreen’s chevron with his free hand. 

Smokescreen let the corners of his mouth curve with a smile as Bumblebee continued to thrust. Soon he felt the spike in his mouth get harder and hot. 

“Can’t… gonna…” Bumblebee pressed his spike forward, filling and flooding Smokescreen’s mouth as he overloaded. Smokescreen quickly reacted, swallowing at first, then suckling the head of his spike until he’d milked him dry. 

Bumblebee sat back on his heels once he was done, and stared at Smokescreen with bright optics. 

Smokescreen licked his lips, making sure he’d not missed any. 

“You actually like sucking spike…” Bumblebee sounded surprised. 

“Yeah. Why?” Smokescreen asked, not sure why a pleasure mech enjoying oral was weird. 

“I’ll be honest. I’m a lot older than I look. I’ve been with my fair share of mechs over the years, and you’re a rare kind.” Bumblebee smiled. “Even the best pleasure mechs detach and just do it because that’s what expected. You did that because you  _ liked _ it.”

“You tasted nice,” Smokescreen replied with a small smile. “And yeah. I like interfacing. All of it. That’s why I enjoy this job so much.”

Bumblebee looked pleased. He pet Smokescreen’s body again, admiring him. “I need to get my valve ready.”

Smokescreen nodded. There wasn’t anything he could do to help with that, being tied up and not allowed to touch, though.

“I want you to watch,” Bumblebee said with a nefarious smile. He got off the berth and pulled out a false spike from his container. It looked like it was inflatable, with a tube and air pump at the end. Bumblebee sat next to Smokescreen on the berth, spreading his legs and working the false spike in and out of his valve until he could slide it in completely. 

Smokescreen had to admit, watching Bumblebee prime himself was turning him on. His spike twitched as he watched.

“You like that?” Bumblebee asked, reaching over to pet Smokescreen’s onlined spike. 

“Definitely,” Smokescreen replied. 

Bumblebee moved to kneel next to Smokescreen’s spike, and leaned over, kissing up the shaft. He mouthed and licked the head. “Such a pretty spike.” He sat back, squeezing the air pump to the false spike buried his valve and shivering. Bumblebee then grinned, and leaned over again, sucking the end of Smokescreen’s spike in earnest. His smaller mouth couldn’t take it in completely, but it still felt very nice. 

Smokescreen arched his body slightly, and his optics dimmed as he moaned. 

Pulling off, Bumblebee wiped his mouth with his hand. “Primus, you’re pretty.” He then frowned slightly, and it took a moment for Smokescreen to notice what he was doing. The false spike was much larger now, and he was pumping it in and out to ready himself. “I think I’m ready. Are you?”

“I’m ready,” Smokescreen replied. 

“I can see that,” Bumblebee smirked, glancing at his very much onlined spike. He removed the false spike, then climbed up, straddling Smokescreen. He took hold of his spike with both hands and lowered himself down over it, taking it about a third of the way. He groaned, and let go to place his hands on Smokescreen’s abdomen to steady himself as he began to ride his spike. Each time he lowered down, he’d take more of Smokescreen’s spike and moan. 

The tightness of Bumblebee’s valve was almost painful. Soon enough, though, the small valve adjusted and it felt really wonderful wrapping around him. It squeezed the nodes lining his spike, and kept a constant, throbbing pressure that only a minibot valve could do. 

It took several minutes of rocking himself over Smokescreen’s spike, before Bumblebee was finally able to take it to the hilt. The slow build up was dizzying. Smokescreen panted, his core temp rising as his spike was squeezed over and over. 

Bumblebee groaned, optics dimmed. He had a look of pure bliss on his face as he rode Smokescreen’s spike. It wasn’t going to take much to get Smokescreen to overload, so he did his best to keep himself controlled. 

“It’s so big,” Bumblebee moaned, picking up his pace. “How does it feel for you?”

“Slick, tight, _amazing_ ,” Smokescreen replied, groaning. 

“You like it?” Bumblebee asked, voice airy sounding.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Smokescreen replied followed by a low moan. His spike was throbbing, teetering on the edge. 

“Me too…” Bumblebee fingers suddenly dug into Smokescreen’s plating. “I’m gonna…” He cried out, small frame shuddering as he overloaded.

The tight squeeze was too much for Smokescreen, and his spike exploded, flooding Bumblebee’s valve as he arched and moaned with his own intense overload. He’d forgotten how incredible it felt after such a long build up with a minibot. 

Coming to a stop, Bumblebee panted hard. He lowered himself to lie down over Smokescreen, while still impaled, fluid escaping and trickling down their connected arrays. 

Smokescreen wished his hands were free to pet Bumblebee in the aftermath but he couldn’t. Maybe that was part of the point, though. 

Bumblebee ran a hand over Smokescreen’s bumper and chest next to where he was laying his head. “That was amazing.”

Smokescreen smiled. “Yeah, it was.”

“I want to go again, but I need a moment,” Bumblebee commented. “How about you?”

“I’m up for another round,” Smokescreen replied, grinning. 

Bumblebee gyrated his hips, squeezing Smokescreen’s spike with his valve. 

Smokescreen grunted, spike getting harder again, which in turn made Bumblebee whimper. 

“I’m definitely asking for you next time,” Bumblebee commented.

“Oh yeah?” Smokescreen smiled. 

“You're pretty, your spike is huge, you liked sucking my spike, and you haven’t tried to pull on the restraints at all. You’ve let me do whatever I want. You’re everything I’ve been looking for in a pleasure mech.” Bumblebee looked pleased. 

“You’re making my job easy. I just gotta lay here and enjoy myself, afterall,” Smokescreen replied, chuckling.

Bumblebee laughed. “I suppose so.” Pushing up, he rested on his elbows and looked down at Smokescreen. “You’re really not like other pleasure mechs.”

“Is that bad?” Smokescreen asked. 

“No. It’s just, well, most do it for the credits. You obviously would do it whether you were paid or not. It makes it more fun. You know, ‘cause you’re into it, too,” Bumblebee explained. 

“I used to get around a lot. This way is safer, and I can pay my rent all while still getting to ‘face as much as I want. Works well for me,” Smokescreen replied. 

Bumblebee squeezed his valve again, and they both moaned. “Working for me, too. Ready to go again?”

Smokescreen nodded with an eager smile. “Ready.”


	7. Aerialbots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen's first date and then his workday doesn't quite go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still working on this... It evolved a bit, so I paused before posting this. I hope you enjoy. If you do, please be sure to comment. It makes my day brighter. :3

First date:

Smokescreen checked himself in his mirror. He was waxed and shiny. He wanted to look impressive to make up for his insecurities about going on this date. 

His buzzer rang. 

Pressing the intercom viewer, Smokescreen smiled at the sight of Ironhide in his front lobby. “Hey, handsome. I’ll be right down.”

Ironhide smiled. “I’ll be waitin’.”

Smokescreen took one last look at himself, then dashed out the door to the lift. Stepping off into the lobby, Smokescreen felt his spark pulsing hard with fear. What if he wasn’t good enough? Or funny enough? Or pretty enough? Interesting enough? 

Ironhide greeted him with a huge smile. “Hello, beautiful.”

His racing thoughts halted at that. “Hey.” That’s all he could think to say? Primus, he was an idiot. 

“Here.” Ironhide pulled a small, shimmering container from his subspace. “I know it’s a bit old-fashioned, but I wanted to bring you a little something.”

Smokescreen took the offered container, and ran his fingers over the pretty surface. “You really didn’t need to get me something.”

“I know, but I want you to know I’m serious about this,” Ironhide replied. “My creator always said, if you’re gonna do it, do it  _ right _ .”

Doorwings lowering, Smokescreen looked up at Ironhide. “Is it rude to open it now?”

Laughing, Ironhide shook his head. “Not at all. Go ahead. Open it up.”

Popping the lid open, Smokescreen’s optics brightened. “Whoa. These are from Galaxus! They’re supposed to be the best energon treats in Iacon.”

“They are. I got a selection of different ones, but the oil-infused in my favorite.” Ironhide pointed to a dark grey one with flakes of silver on top.

“I’ll try that one,” Smokescreen said, picking it up and popping it into his mouth. It melted into a mixture of rich, delightful flavors on his glossa before he hummed and swallowed. “Wow.”

Ironhide looked pleased, grinning. “I aim to impress.”

“I already like you. You don’t need to impress me. But thank you.” Smokescreen closed the lid, and put the container in subspace. “I’m gonna save the rest for later. Let’s have them together, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Ironhide offered a hand. “Shall we?”

Smokescreen took hold of it, shyly smiling. “Where are we off to?”

“It’s a surprise,” Ironhide replied.

They walked a few blocks and got on the local shuttle. Smokescreen enjoyed the ride, happy to just chat with Ironhide and be with him someplace other than a hotel room. They got off at the stop for the racing arena. Smokescreen was curious where their destination was, but he assumed one of the nice energon bars in the area. 

They walked to the arena entrance, and Smokescreen gently tugged on Ironhide’s arm. “Blurr is racing tonight, isn’t he?”

“He sure is.” Ironhide pulled out a shiny card from subspace. “The Prime has a box seat he hardly uses. He lets us take turns when there are races. Just so happens to be my turn.”

Smokescreen stared up at Ironhide with bright optics. “Tickets sell out for Blurr’s races weeks in advance and you’re saying we’re gonna see him in one of the box seats?”

“Yup.” Ironhide chuckled. 

“Holy Primus…” Smokescreen replied. “This is too much. You know I like you, right? You don’t need to do all this for me?”

“It’s not about impressing you, well, maybe it is a little. But it’s more about showing you a good time. Having fun together. I like the races. I know you do, too. So let’s have a fun night.” Ironhide gently squeezed Smokescreen’s hand. 

Smokescreen squeezed back. “We could sit in a seedy bar and I’d have fun with you. But thank you. This is awesome.”

Ironhide leaned over and initiated a gentle kiss. Their  _ first _ kiss. It was a shy sort of kiss for both of them, but certainly the most meaningful kiss Smokescreen had ever shared with anyone. 

Pulling back, Smokescreen gazed deeply into Ironhide’s lovely optics. “Let’s go in. Have a great time.”

“I already am,” Ironhide replied.

“Me, too,” Smokescreen admitted.

….

Riding the shuttle to the outer docks, Smokescreen stared out the window. His date with Ironhide had been amazing. They’d had a wonderful evening. Blurr had won of course, the view was incredible from the box seat, and they’d eaten the container of Galaxus treats together while chatting and watching the races. When the night came to a close, Ironhide walked him home and kissed him again outside his building. It was like a scene out of a movie, not an event in his own life.

They’d agreed to wait to interface, and he was honestly glad. Why rush? The affection was more than enough for now. Afterall, he got plenty of action through his job. Smokescreen wasn’t sure how long the elder mech would stay interested in a mech like him, so may as well enjoy the attention while it lasted. 

The shuttle buzzer rang and came to a stop. He got off and took out his mini datapad to quickly look over his clients’ information. He’d interfaced with three mechs before, but five? This was going to be a new experience. 

Unlike other clients, these were allowed to host Smokescreen in their home. Zetca assured him that he’d inspected ahead of time. Smokescreen walked a ways then turned down a road lined with large hangars. He searched for hangar theta-five, eventually finding it almost at the end of the road. There was a buzzer, so he pressed it. 

The door slid open and a smaller flier with a bright yellow head grinned. He turned and yelled back into the hangar. “He’s here!” Turning back, he pulled the door open wider. “Come on in.”

Smokescreen entered. 

Inside was a huge hangar, but it had been cordoned off by ten meter high walls to make different living areas. The front area he was in had several sofas and a huge vid screen. 

“Please, have a seat. They’ll be right out. I’m Air Raid, by the way,” the flier said with a huge grin. 

“Smokescreen. Nice to meet you.” He chose one of the sofas and sat down. 

The other members of the flying gestalt emerged from behind one of the walls. 

“Whoa, he’s cute.”

“Frag yeah, he is.”

“Don’t be rude,” a taller flier said as he approached Smokescreen and offered his hand. “I’m Silverbolt. This is our gestalt.”

Smokescreen shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Sit, tell me your names. Then I’ll go over the rules, okay?”

They all piled onto the sofas. Silverbolt made sure he sat beside Smokescreen and gestured to the other fliers. “This is Fireflight, that’s Skydive, that’s Slingshot and Air Raid answered the door.”

“I already told him my name,” Air Raid replied, grinning still. 

“Well, I’ll be honest, this is my first time with a gestalt. I’m looking forward to this, but I need to recite the rules and it’s important you all agree,” Smokescreen said, trying not to sound as overwhelmed as felt. Five faces all focused on him was unnerving. How the frag did Jazz get up on stage and play in front of hundreds?

“Of course. Please, go ahead,” Silverbolt replied. 

“First rule, no harming me,” Smokescreen said, looking at each one as they nodded in agreement.

“Second rule, no kissing on the mouth.” They all nodded again.

“Third rule, if any of us are uncomfortable, we end the encounter.” They each murmured their agreement.

“Since I’ve not been with this many at once, I’m going to need breaks to fuel. I brought my own. I think that’s everything for me. How about you all tell me how you’d like to do this?” Smokescreen asked, smiling.

“We set up a table back there for you. So you’ll be at waist height for us,” Slingshot said, gesturing beyond the wall. 

“Sounds good. Show me what you’ve got in mind.” Smokescreen got up and the group of fliers did, too.

They led him to the back where they had a table with a berth pad on it set up in the middle. Around it were their berths, three on one side, two on the other. Smokescreen noticed a wedge cushion on the ground. 

Having noticed Smokescreen looking at it, Air Raid picked it up and put it on the table. “For bending you over. It’s squishy, so it won’t hurt your bumper or anything.”

Skydive took it off the table. “But first, we were hoping you’d lay on your back.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it planned out,” Smokescreen replied, walking over, turning and hopping up to sit on the table. His feet dangled just above the ground. 

“Yeah. Well, we’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Slingshot replied, shrugging his wings. 

“Never been with a grounder,” Fireflight said, looking at Smokescreen with hungry optics. 

“I apologize for them. They’re eager.” Silverbolt frowned. 

“No worries. I’m not offended.” Smokescreen fluttered his doorwings. “I’m ready when you are. How about we start with touching?”

They all moved in closer, except Silverbolt. The larger flier walked away and sat down on a nearby berth to watch. 

Four sets of hands began to grope and pet Smokescreen’s body. They knew about to properly tease his doorwings. Not surprising, they were fliers. It was clear they were Iaconian not Vosian, though. Smaller, clearly meant for service with their more modern plating style. That didn’t make them any less attractive, though.

Smokescreen sat still, enjoying their hands all over his frame. They murmured at one another talking about how cute they thought Smokescreen was. He glanced at Silverbolt, still quietly watching from the sideline. 

“Can I kiss you other places?” Fireflight asked. 

“Yeah. Go for it,” Smokescreen replied. 

Fireflight kissed down his neck and shoulder, petting his abdomen. Slingshot reached between Smokescreen’s legs and rubbed his array cover. Another one Smokescreen couldn’t see kissed his doorwing backside, while he felt fingers petting the other doorwing. He had to admit, while this was somewhat overwhelming, it was also turning him on. 

“You’re warm,” Slingshot said, smiling. 

“You know how to warm me up,” Smokescreen replied with a half-smile. “Would you like me to lay back?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison.

Smokescreen chuckled and laid back. He pulled his legs up, planting his feet on the berth padding covered table. They continued to grope and kiss his body. A glossa licked his array cover, and he moaned. Hands rubbed his inner thighs, and he finally gave in, letting the cover open. 

“Whoa, your spike is big,” Air Raid said.

“And pretty,” Fireflight added. 

“Step back, guys,” Skydive said, tugging on Fireflight. 

Smokescreen wasn’t sure what was happening until Silverbolt came into his view, standing between his parted legs. 

“They wanted me to go first. After, they’ll take turns,” Silverbolt explained, looking a little unsure about all this. “You’re okay with that?”

Smokescreen nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Silverbolt fingered Smokescreen’s valve, gently petting the platelets before sinking two fingers inside. The others watched while also stealing touches. 

“Come on ‘Bolt. You know you wanna,” Air Raid said, play-punching his arm.

“Yeah, don’t you want to know what it’s like?” Slingshot asked.

Know what exactly? Smokescreen wondered. Being with a grounder? Or a pleasure mech?

Once Smokescreen was slick, Silverbolt stepped in closer, and opened his array. He hesitated, though. 

“Rule three applies. You don’t have to do any you’re uncomfortable with,” Smokescreen said, not wanting to push him.

Silverbolt’s small frown faded to a shy smile as he rubbed his spike against the rim. “I’m just a little nervous,” he replied. 

“Why? Look at him! He’s cute, and this is what he does for a job. You like your job, right?” Fireflight asked Smokescreen.

“I love my job. But it’s okay to be nervous,” Smokescreen said, holding Silverbolt’s gaze. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, it’s fine. I want to do this,” he said before finally sliding into Smokescreen’s waiting, wet valve. Smokescreen moaned, enjoying the shape and feel of Silverbolt’s spike. 

Slingshot’s fingers teased his headlights, Skydive rubbed the platelets lining his valve’s top rim, and Silverbolt slowly thrust in and out of his slicked valve. Smokescreen grasped at the berth padding beneath him, moaning more. He dimmed his optics, letting himself be swept away with all the sensations at once. 

He heard array covers opening, and his hands were pried from the berth padding, each one wrapped around a spike. He pumped them with his hands, all while Silverbolt thrust at a steady pace. He felt a spike against his cheek, and turned his head, opening his mouth to swallow Air Raid’s yellow spike. 

Several hands pet his doorwings, and Silverbolt took over rubbing his valve’s upper rim along with that thick spike of his penetrating him over and over. It soon became too much. Smokescreen overloaded, lips parting to cry out, but the sound was muffled by Air Raid’s spike. 

“He just overloaded! You see that?” Skydive said excitedly. 

Smokescreen turned his head away from Air Raid’s spike, looking at Silverbolt as he thrust harder and deeper. His valve throbbed, hot and already building another charge. He groaned, his sensory net buzzing from all the stimulation. 

“Here, suck on mine,” Slingshot said, moving to stand next to Smokescreen’s head. 

He turned toward him, and a spike was pressed past his lips. He swallowed it to the hilt, glossa snaking around it. Slingshot groaned. 

Silverbolt’s thrusts became more insistent, off rhythm. Smokescreen could feel it getting harder inside him. Suddenly heat flooded his valve, as Silverbolt groaned, overloading. 

Smokescreen didn’t stop working the spike in his mouth, and he felt his hands being switched to different spikes. Silverbolt withdrew, and Smokescreen felt fluid spill from his valve. He was going to be a mess when they were done. 

He wasn’t empty for long, though. Another spike penetrated him, not as large, but nice enough. Slingshot pulled his spike from Smokescreen’s mouth and Fireflight stepped up. Smokescreen took a moment to see it was Air Raid spiking him before opening wide for Fireflight. 

They moved around him, each taking turns. Spiking him until he’d overload, overloading themselves, and having him suck on their spikes while they waited for their turn to fill up his valve. 

The last one to go was Skydive. He thrust hard and deep while the others pet Smokescreen’s wings and body. Silverbolt had returned to his seat on the berth to watch. 

“I’ll rub this part. It’ll make him overload again,” Air Raid said, fingers teasing the sensitive platelets while Skydive thrust into him over and over. Smokescreen groaned, head rolling back. He shivered then arched his chest, whimpering as pleasure cascaded through his array yet again with another overload. 

Skydive moaned and thrust a few more times before also overloading. He pulled out and stepped back. More fluid escaped. It was all over Smokescreen’s thighs and had trickled down his aft. 

Smokescreen was spent. He needed a break.

“Grab the cleaning cloths. Let’s tend to his array.” Silverbolt ordered. They scattered to grab what he asked for. He got up and walked over, looking at Smokescreen. “You holding up alright? I wasn’t expecting you to overload for each of them.”

Smokescreen grinned. “I’m okay. I need to fuel, though, and I wanted them to each have the same good time with me.”

Silverbolt smiled. “Well, don’t over do it. We don’t want to break that first rule. Let them clean you up, then we’ll take a break.” 

“Sounds good,” Smokescreen replied. 

The other four returned, and Smokescreen let them wipe him down. He sat up and took an offered cloth. “Would you mind if I stepped into your wash rack a moment?”

“Yeah sure. This way,” Skydive replied. 

He walked Smokescreen to the wash rack nearby. Closing the door, Smokescreen went to the stall and was eternally grateful to find it had a detachable spray nozzle. He turned on the water and rinsed his valve. He’d been messy before, but this was crazy. Feeling better after a thorough rinsing, he pat his plating dry and returned to the berth area. 

They’d apparently also each grabbed fuel, sitting on the berths each drinking some. Smokescreen hopped back up onto the table and pulled out a ration from subspace. 

“You’re amazing,” Slingshot said, grinning at Smokescreen. 

“Thanks,” Smokescreen replied. 

“Your doorwings are so pretty,” Fireflight commented, optics focused on them. 

“Well, they aren’t flier wings, but I like them,” Smokescreen replied, fluttering them a little. He finished his ration, and stretched his arms over his head to resettle his plating, readying himself for the next round. “Ready when you guys are.”

Skydive collected their empty energon glasses. Fireflight, Air Raid, and Slingshot surrounded the table. 

“You mind if we use the foam wedge? Bend you over it?” Slingshot asked, picking it up. 

“Sure.” Smokescreen replied, sliding off the table to stand. He glanced at Silverbolt. “You alright?”

“Yes,” SIlverbolt replied, warmly smiling. 

“That was his first time interfacing,” Fireflight said.

Smokescreen’s optics brightened. “You should have said. I didn’t realize. I could have handled it differently for you.”

“It was wonderful,” Silverbolt replied. 

“He always watches us, but never participates,” Air Raid said with a shrug. 

“That’s not exactly true,” Fireflight said. “He touches us while we frag sometimes.”

“I don’t think our guest needs to know about our personal interfacing habits,” Silverbolt said, giving them a withering look.

Gestalt dynamics were complex, it seemed. Smokescreen half-smiled. “I don’t mind hearing about it, but I don’t think that’s why I’m here.”

Slingshot pat the foam wedge. “Ready for another round, then?”

Smokescreen stepped forward, and bent front first over the wedge, aft and array exposed as he rested his upper chest on the soft foam. His doorwings were perked up and accessible this way, too. “Ready.”

Air Raid got up on the table, sitting in front of Smokescreen. Knowing a prompt when he saw one, Smokescreen smiled then leaned down and swirled his glossa over Air Raid’s spike. 

“Frag,  _ yeah _ ,” Air Raid groaned. 

Swallowing the spike, Smokescreen bobbed his head, working it with his glossa and mouth. 

Meanwhile, Skydive went around and started to finger his valve. Slingshot joined him, and he wasn’t sure which one it was, but he felt a glossa lick his valve rim. Smokescreen moaned with his mouth full. 

“He likes that, keep going,” Fireflight commented. 

“Can I get on the table?” Slingshot asked. 

“Yeah, sure,” Air Raid moved away, and traded with Slingshot. 

Smokescreen noticed all four were in front of him or at his sides petting his doorwings. So who was mouthing his valve? The glossa teased the platelets then dipped into his wet valve. He groaned, shivering. 

“You should see his face, ‘Bolt,” Fireflight said, grinning. 

Slingshot rubbed his spike against Smokescreen’s lips, prompting him. 

He’d lost his focus, valve throbbing and hot from Silverbolt’s attention. “Sorry,” Smokescreen replied, doorwings quivering. He turned and opened his mouth for Slingshot. 

It was hard to focus on sucking his spike, though. Silverbolt’s glossa was  _ very _ distracting. He even knew to suck on his valve rim just right. He moaned, optics dimming. 

“I wanna see him overload again.” Air Raid trailed his fingers over Smokescreen’s doorwings with just the right amount of pressure to send a lovely buzz over his sensory net. 

Slingshot pet Smokescreen’s chevron as he sucked on his spike. And Fireflight massaged his other doorwing. 

Skydive stood nearby, pumping his own spike in his hand. 

The air was so thick with lust, and Smokescreen’s sensory net went crazy from the multiple points of stimulation. Silverbolt lapped his valve, and it pushed him over the edge. He shuddered, mouth opening wide as he cried out, overloading. 

He panted, trying to recover as quickly as possible. 

“Watching you overload in this position is incredible,” Skydive said, optics dark with lust. “Trade with me Slingshot.”

“Sure!” The two traded places, and Smokescreen was soon mouthing Skydive’s spike. 

Silverbolt’s thick spike spread his valve again, pushing to the hilt. 

“You  _ do _ like spiking,” Air Raid said, laughing.

“It is… nice,” Silverbolt admitted. 

Smokescreen moaned, electrical heat building in his array again as Silverbolt spiked him. He’d overloaded six times? Right? This was a record, even for him. He felt hazy, like he couldn’t quite get his vision into focus as Silverbolt thrust hard and deep over and over. 

Before he knew it, Smokescreen overloaded yet again. Silverbolt quickly followed, his deep voice echoing in the hangar as he overloaded. 

After that everything began to blur. Smokescreen couldn’t take a moment to pant and cool himself, they kept pressing a spike into his mouth to suck. He started to feel dizzy, like he couldn’t tell up from down. His body shuddered, pleasure rolling over his sensory net in waves. 

He wanted to stop, he needed another break. But he couldn’t focus his processor long enough to let them know. 

Heat flooded his valve and then a new spike slid in, causing Smokescreen to tremble as it thrust deep over and over. He overloaded yet again, the pleasure intense and sharp this time. As it ebbed he knew he was going to pass out. There was nothing he could do about it. So he gave in to the darkness, slipping offline.


End file.
